Yankee Accents
by H Ashleigh
Summary: AU Her shoulders shook as her heart heaved dry sobs out. No tears leaked from her eyes. She had none left to spill. The only unanswered question: Why? BEING EDITED AND CHANGED: PLEASE REREAD AND REVIEW! Through chapter six edited...
1. Grey Sky Mornings

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling! The song belongs to Vertical Horizon.

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter One: Grey Sky Mornings

Written by: Auburn Lily

Hermione trudged up the damp, soggy staircase to her apartment on the third floor. Her flat-soled shoes kissed the planks of wood that were drenched and rotting from sea mist that was carried in from the ocean. It was early in the morning, six-thirty to be exact, and as she reached the third floor she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

Her room number was 322 and the mailbox that hung under the burnt-out door light had a few letters in it from ghosts of the past. Her key squeaked nosily in the rusty hole and she entered the one-person apartment that she had lived in for almost ten-years, forgetting to grab the mail out of the box.

She set her keys on the wooden table that stood defiantly in her small, beaten kitchen and dropped her purse on the ground before lowering herself in the chair and covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook as her heart heaved dry sobs out and her brown hair came loose from its small pins.

No tears leaked from her eyes, because she had none left to spill.

She lifted her head out of her hands and her eyes touched upon the dismal state of disrepair that had been wrought upon her home.

The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes that hadn't been washed in days. The icebox that she had left out the night before had long since melted and condensation pooled on the vinyl flooring. Dirty, stucco wallpaper curled away from the walls and the ceiling was cracked. The flooring seemed to be caving in some places and the upholstery on the armchair was ripped.

She woke later in her bed, entangled in pristine white sheets. It seemed she had slept all day, for the light that was cast in her room was a grayish-purple. The large, bay windows were open as they always were, and Hermione could see out over the sand dunes the ocean that never slept. She curled into a fetal position and moped for a few moments more before getting up and walking over to the bathroom door. The cracked sink that hung beneath the cracked mirror was dry and she washed her hands before looking at her appearance in the mirror.

Her eyes were a misty, muddled brown, the toffee glow that had once resided and twinkled beneath long lashes gone ages ago. Her skin was pasty and pale from a troublesome sleep that had held no dreams except those of him. Deep bags hung low under her eyes, accentuated with the black make-up that had smudged under them and her lips were all but the full raspberries they had been in her prime youth. Hair that used to be honey-brown and radiant, full and rolling with waves, now hung limply almost to her waist. It held none of the vigor that it had held back in England. It was dark, almost the color of her eyes, and heavy.

She sighed lightly before undressing and taking a quick shower. The hot water pelted her back with its massaging fingers and she pretended that she didn't hear the mouth that whispered to her. She quickly dried her hair

and dressed for work before walking out to the kitchen to retrieve an apple from her nearly empty refrigerator. She hadn't gone shopping in days. She grabbed her purse from the ground where it had been left that morning and snatched her keys before leaving her house, locking the doors behind her.

She padded down the stairs once more until she finally reached the ground level. She walked to her car, a faded, charcoal-gray Honda that had slowly been dragged into her depression. Inside it smelt musty and she quickly rolled down the windows before starting the car and turning on the music that was in the player.

_So you sailed away _

_Into a gray sky morning_

_Now I'm here to stay _

_Love can be so boring_

She pulled some small hairpins out of her purse and commenced to pulling her long, thick hair up out of her face.

_Nothings quite the same now_

_I just say your name now_

After all but a few tendrils of baby hair were pulled up she opened the visor and slid open the mirror. Her face was still pale and her cheeks still pessimistic.

_But it's not so bad _

_You're only the best I ever had_

_You don't want me back _

_You're just the best I ever had_

She pulled out of the apartment garage and drove down the road that was lined with quaint cottages and beach houses. The road she lived on was close to the ocean and so most of the houses owned were only lived in during the summer months. It was the peak of fall in Delaware so few cars filled the driveways of sporadic houses down the lane.

_So you stole my world _

_Now I'm just a phony_

_Remembering the girl_

_Leaves me down and lonely_

The drive to the hospital she worked at was fairly short and soon she pulled into the employee's parking garage. She turned the car off and the melancholy music stopped playing. As she stepped out she straightened her nurses' uniform and placed her hat on her head.

She signed in and than took the lift to the seventh floor, where she worked with pediatric oncology.

"Hermione," a female's voice called out of nowhere.

Hermione swiveled to see her friend Jessamine Sanchez walking up the long white corridors towards her. Jessamine was a tall, curvy Hispanic woman in her mid-twenties with a swagger to her hips Hermione had lost ages ago.

"Hey Jessa," Hermione replied back.

"When do you get off for break?" she asked right away, clicking the gum that resided in her mouth loudly.

"I was thinking 1:30 tonight," Hermione answered, turning back towards the medicine cabinet she was headed to down the immaculate hallway.

"Oh good, that's when I get off. Do you want to meet anywhere?"

"Um…sure. What about the coffee shop across the street? It's open all hours isn't it?"

"Yeah, remember we were just there last week? Good, I need some more advice on Jeroy."

"Yeah ok Jess. I'll meet you then," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes at the mention of Jeroy.

Jessamine turned around without another word and stalked down the corridor once again, sporadically clicking and popping her gum as she went.

As Hermione entered the small closet that had been nicknamed affectionately "The Medicine Cabinet" by the employees she noticed a note hanging off of one of the tall, gleaming white cabinets. It read:

'Hey Herm: I got off early tonight so I left Arlene with everything. I'm sure you know what to do, but just in case. I know you have off tomorrow night; would you like to go out? I thought I might treat you to something special. It was a year ago that we met, after all. I'll talk to you later tomorrow okay? Love, Jimmy'

Hermione smiled softly and threw the note in the trash bin before picking out select labeled bottles full of pills and liquids. She poured then all into medicine dispensers and placed them on a tray. Then she made her rounds for the next three hours depositing pills to the children.

"Hello Wren," Hermione said, her voice full of false cheer as she bustled into one of the rooms. The hospital did it's best to provide the sick children with bright, happy rooms to live in. The walls were decked in wallpaper of hot-air balloons, teddy bears, and lollipops and all the rooms held a bookcase and a toy chest as well as a television and video player.

"Hello Hermione," Wren replied. She was sitting on the floor, playing with the dolls her family had brought her. She turned her bright blue eyes Hermione's way and smiled before standing up and dusting off her night-clothes.

"You already had dinner?" Hermione asked, setting the tray down on a table.

"Yes, ma'am," Wren answered before sitting on the bed and pulling the covers over herself.

"Very good. And you ate it all?"

Wren nodded sleepily.

"I should probably give you this medicine now."

"Okay," Wren mumbled, taking the pills without argument as Hermione smoothed back the few wispy hairs that still clung to her scalp.

"Do you need anything else sweetheart?"

"Could you put in Sleeping Beauty for me?"

"Yes of course darling," Hermione replied before walking over to dig though the movie cabinet. She stuck the movie in the player and hurried out after giving Wren a goodnight kiss.

The rest of the night went about the same way and when Hermione took her break she walked across the street to the little café to meet Jessamine.

The shop was small and vacant at this hour but open due to the hospital that sat right across the street. It was warm, comfy and cozy. She ordered a drink right away, sitting in front of the crackling fire to wait for Jessa.

She bustled in a few minutes later, bringing with her a rush of chilly, iced night air. She strode over and plopped down into a seat right across from Hermione, all the while looking exhausted.

"Finally, I thought I would never get out. Carson kept me forever, I don't know why," she huffed, taking her hair out at the same time.

"Sounds like a night," Hermione replied. "Do you want me to grab you a drink?"

"Sure."

Hermione returned a few minutes later with another steaming mug of coffee clutched in her small hands.

"Did you get decaf?" Jessa asked as she shoved the pins in her handbag.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, placing the cup on the side table next to Jessamine and then placing herself in her vacated chair.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

"So anyways, I wanted to talk to you about Jeroy," Jessa said, only to be interrupted by Hermione's loud and annoyed sigh. "What?"

"JessaI told you from the start he was trouble. And you have gone through too much for him. I'm telling you he's not worth it."

"But Hermione, you don't know him like I do," she retorted to Hermione's out-burst, and masked her face with a dream-like expression.

"Oh please," Hermione spat, ticked. "Stop acting like you're a high-schooler with a crush. You need to find someone real and Jeroy is not it."

"How would you know Hermione? You most certainly have no room to talk about things like making good decisions. Don't be such a hypocrite."

Hermione's face fell at that remark and Jessa knew that she had hit a nerve.

"Hermione you need to go back. It's killing you inside, I can see it."

"No Jessa, I'm fine. I don't want to see him."

"But what about the other two?"

"They're fine. I'm sure their married by now and have children. As a matter of fact he's probably married as well. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Okay, whatever you say. I still think it would be worthwhile to go back for Christmas."

"Actually, I was thinking about visiting my parents over December. I have a month of leave at least, and I really miss them." Hermione replied.

"Yes yes, you should."

"I don't know what I would do if I saw him while I was there. I don't know what I would do if I saw any of them there to tell you the truth. Ron was so mad when I said that I was leaving. I wouldn't be surprised if he still was. He told me it was so uncharacteristic of me to run away from my problems. But he didn't understand. And Harry. Harry was a different thing all together. Ginny used to say it was because he was in love with me. I don't think that was the case though. When I left he was so… oh I don't… I don't know. When he found out that I was leaving it reminded me of when I had first met him. There was sadness behind his eyes I hadn't seen in a long time. I didn't know what to think of it then and I don't know what to think of it now." Hermione released.

"That's all the more reason to go. You have so many lose-ties in England."

"I don't know I'd have to check with Jimmy first."

"Oh he won't mind. He knows you've never missed a day of work. Actually he would probably want to come with you. You know how jealous he gets sometimes." Jessa commented.

"I guess you're right. I could use a break. But I can't have him tagging along. He wouldn't like it anyways."

Jessa excused herself for a moment to get a pastry from the counter, and Hermione was left time to contemplate.

'Should I go back?" Hermione asked herself. 'If I saw him I wouldn't know what to do or what to think. I would probably just stare at him like a bleeding idiot.'

"So, Hermione," Jessa returned, her mouth full of flakey-croissant dough. "What should I do about Jeroy?"

---

Hermione got off work at five a.m. and as soon as she turned the ignition in her car, that song started right back up where it had left off.

_Send it in a letter _

_Make yourself feel better _

_But it's not so bad _

_You're only the best I ever had_

---

"_Hermione!" someone called down the halls of Hogwarts. "Hermione come here!"_

_Hermione whipped around to see Draco standing at the end of the vacated hallway, smiling at her in earnest. She grinned back and made her way towards him. Her heavy bag full of tomes dug into her shoulder and finally she shed it, along with the books she held in her arms. Then Hermione ran full-fledged down the hallway, to leap into Draco's arms and to be spun around, laughing._

_Finally he set her down and she brushed stray pieces of hair out of her face before capturing his lips in a kiss so full of passion and love that someone standing from afar might have thought that he had just returned from a war. _

"_How were your holiday's?" she demanded._

"_Boring and full of stupid political party's father insisted on hosting. How was yours?"_

"_Simply perfect." _

_Draco captured her lips again in a kiss, this time ending it with a lust-full gleam shining in his eyes. Hermione smiled seductively back at his and turned away from him to retrieve her bag at the end of the hallway._

"_Let's go tiger," Hermione called down the hallway at Draco, who was still standing there staring at her as if she may be a mirage._

---

Hermione shook herself abruptly, ending the short time travel and drove out of the parking lot.

_You don't need me back _

_You're just the best I ever had_

She made certain to grab the mail on her way in this time. She set it on the table and cleaned the entire kitchen before calling the 24-hour Chinese food restaurant and ordering buckets of shrimp-fried rice and sweet-n- sour chicken. She showered once again, got dressed, and then walked slowly back to the kitchen to read her mail.

"Bill, magazine, another magazine, another bill, advertisement, magazine, more bills…" her voice tapered off as she read her mail that consisted of no letters from past times.

She sighed heavily and walked over to the window that looked out over the ocean. It was just sunrise and the grey skies were lighting up with pale lavender and minty green. She turned away from the sky and grabbed her sandals before digging out her old, musty, grey cloak that hung in the back of her armoire.

She padded down the stairs of the apartment building and soon found herself making the heavy walk across the dunes thick sand and itchy grass. The sand was cool and the wind barely blew her cloak out from under her or her hair in her face, and she sat down just from the break of the water. She combed her fingers through the sand, fishing for broken shells and sea glass.

The ocean was steely grey and the waves were large as they broke on jagged rocks that lay just below the surface of the water. The ocean's mouth foamed white sea mist that clung to the sand, and placed a garland of salty-rose buds around her head. The sky slowly metamorphoses from dull grey to splendid orange and gold with a red ball at its center, riding the oceans horizon like Zeus directing his chariot of palominos across the morning sky. Hermione smiled sadly and laid back, letting her hair fan all around her and the sand stuck to her like iron to a magnet.

Her eyes spotted something white silhouetted against the morning sky, slowly making its way towards her. She squinted her eyes as it flew closer and closer, circling overhead like a vulture or an owl, searching for prey of some kind.

It landed next to her and blinked its large, amber eyes at her slowly. It looked oddly familiar.

"Hedwig?" Hermione whispered after a few moments of contemplation.

The owl hooted indignantly before sticking out its leg, which had a roll of parchment tied to it with a white ribbon. Hermione untied it with shaky fingers and then stuck it in the pocket if her cloak before taking Hedwig on her fingers and setting her atop her shoulder.

"Come on I'm assuming you would like a rest and something to eat before I send you back on you're way, hmm?" Hermione questioned, before adding, "As well as some kind of answer to whatever this says. I'm sure Harry insisted that you not leave until I sent something."

Hedwig didn't answer, just kept her eyes on Hermione the whole time.

Hermione entered her apartment once more and Hedwig flew off to perch herself on top of the television set. Hermione removed the cloak from her shoulders and laid it on the floor before looking out the bay window in her living window, watching the sun raise higher and higher in the sky.

"Hedwig," Hermione muttered, turning to the owl and stroking her snow white and ashy grey plumage. "Why does he have to send me a letter now? Especially when debating whether to go back or not."

Hedwig hooted consolingly and affectionately nipped Hermione's bare finger before tucking her head under her wing, clearly indicating it was nap-time.

Hermione glanced at the scroll of parchment lying on the wooden table, a foreboding feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"I will not let anything that he says to me affect my decision," she thought aloud. She shook herself mentally and turned away from the letter to take a nap on the couch. She covered herself in a thick, woolen blanket and quickly fell into an uneasy sleep.

---

"_Harry… Harry…" Hermione yelled gleefully, laughing as Ron tickled her unmercifully on the front lawn of Hogwarts. "Harry, help me!" she begged as Ron loomed over her. Tears of laughter slid down her cheeks and she struggled unsuccessfully to get away._

"_No, I don't think I will," Harry retorted. "You deserve to be tickled like this. After all the last-minute studying you forced us to do you most definitely deserve this cruel and unusual punishment."_

"_Ronald Weasley, 'geroff me!" Hermione ordered, before whipping out her wand, and yelling, "Rictusempra!."_

_Ron collapsed in a fit of giggles, bent over in mirth. He fell to the ground, curling up in a tight ball. _

"_You did it to yourself you know," Hermione said. "You shouldn't have attacked me like that. And you," she added, turning her wand on Harry._

_Harry's eyes grew large in mock-surprise and terror before he put his arms up in front of him._

"_Oh, what could the terrible Hermione Granger have in store for me?" he asked rhetorically._

_She narrowed her eye, and spat "Tarantallegra" which hit him squarely in the chest, forcing him into a hilarious attempt at riverdance. _

"_Now, you can both wallow in the effects of those spells while I go up to the castle and study some more. See you at supper."_

"_Hermione," Ron managed in between peals of fresh laughter. "N.E.W.T.'s are over," he gasped._

_Hermione's back got smaller and smaller as she strode across the grounds, waving a small hand above her head back at them. _

"_Hermione," Harry yelled. "Do us right! Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…" _

_Harry's voice turned from mediocre and quick-paced to a slow and sluggish drawl._

"_Hermione… Hermione… Hermione, come back," the voice demanded. A face claimed the voice, pale and pointed with steel-grey eyes sneering at her. Faded blond hair hung across his brow and wrinkled crows feet dug into the corners of his face. _

"No," Hermione whispered into her empty apartment. "No, I can't."

"_Yes Hermione, you must. I know how you still feel."_

"No. No you don't. You can't know," she whispered. "I still hate you."

"_No. You don't." he whispered. "And you know how I feel, don't you? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you…?." _

Hermione jerked awake, sweating profusely and panting. Her mumbling must have woken Hedwig, for she was looking at her with a peculiar gleam residing in her amber-gold eyes. She shoved the thick blanket off of her body and wiped the stray strands of hair that stuck to her head away. She searched for the time, and saw from the digital video player that it was after three.

"Jeez Hedwig, how can I sleep this long?" Hermione asked. Hedwig merely hooted in response.

She stood on unsteady feet and made her way over to the letter that lay on the table. She stared at it for a couple of moments and then walked to the fridge to retrieve the Chinese food that she had ordered earlier that morning. She checked the messages on her machine. Jimmy had called while she had been sleeping and left a message. He requested she meet him at The Dock in Midtown, which was twenty minutes away. Hermione blinked her eyes and heated the food up in the microwave before turning to the letter finally.

She picked it up in trembling fingers and slid the ribbon off from around its midsection. She unfurled it and saw that it was fairly short. Harry had always been one prefer talking in person.

_12/10/07_

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know you asked me not to write you unless it was extremely important, but I think this is warranted. Mrs. Weasley is very sick. She is currently in St. Mungo's in London. I think you need to come and see her. She has been asking for you the last month. This is not some ploy to get you to come back; the doctors suspect that she could very well die in the next few days. I'm begging you to come back. There are no hard feelings, I promise. From anyone. I don't know how far away you are from Britain so I'm giving you a week to receive this and come back. If you could meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at Diagon Alley on the seventeenth at noon, it would be wonderful. If you can't come send it back with Hedwig. I promise Draco won't be there or Ron or Ginny, or anyone else for that matter. I promise. Please come. _

_Harry_

'Wow,' Hermione thought to herself. 'Well that does it doesn't it? Now I have to go back,' she thought miserably.

She forgot about the food that sat in the microwave and walked into her bedroom to get dressed for her and Jimmy's date.


	2. Delaware and England

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling! (Lyrics are 3 Doors Down).

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Two: Delaware and England

Written by: Auburn Lily

_I woke up today in London_

_As the plane was touching down_

The door to Hermione's flat swung open late that night and she trudged in, sleepy but thoroughly relieved. She sighed heavily and spotted Hedwig perched on top of the television. Hedwig hooted a soft greeting to her but otherwise stayed where she remained.

Hermione removed her winter coat from around her shoulders, placing it on the back of one of the chairs that sat around her dining table, and took off her heels.

The dinner date with Jimmy had been successful to say the least. He had insisted at first that he should accompany her to London but she managed to convince him otherwise. She had also managed to arrange with the hospital to take her leave for two months. She figured that this was a long time but Jimmy insisted that she take it. So she had consented. He had even bought her plane ticket for her. It left that following morning.

"Oh Hedwig," Hermione muttered. "Now I have to go back and I really don't want to." She walked into the back room, took off her clothes, and took another shower before beginning to pack. She didn't have many clothes; probably enough to get her through one week before it was laundry time again so it took barely any time to pack the clothes she planned to take. She put her make-up bag in her suitcase and a pair of shoes went into a duffel bag that had sat in the back of her closet for years.

Her study was empty, except for a few books that she had never read and her out-dated computer that hadn't been used in years. She glanced around, seeing that there was nothing in the room that she needed to take, and then walked back into her living room and turning on the tellie. It predicted snow for every region in the United States except for where she lived and of course the southern states, but that was understood. She sighed again. She had missed that about England; it was always snowing.

"Hedwig," Hermione said. Hedwig's head perked up out of her wing and she looked at Hermione with inquisitive eyes. "Hedwig, was it snowing when you left?" Hedwig hooted softly and tucked her head under her wing again, before Hermione drifted off to sleep as well.

---

She woke up at four and glanced at the T.V., seeing re-runs of some show from the fifties before laying her head back down on the armrest of her couch. Her plane left in two hours and she couldn't think about boarding it.

She sat up and glanced at Hedwig, who was still snoozing peacefully, before standing up and nudging her awake.

"Here," she said. "You need to get something to eat, and then you should probably head off." She walked to her fridge and searched through it, looking for some owl-edibles, to no avail. She turned to her pantry, finding some old crackers, and poured a handful out to feed Hedwig.

"Here you go. I'll leave that window open for you so when you're done, you can just leave." Hedwig glided over on her wings, and began to peck at the old crackers. Hermione walked over to a window, and opened it up widely enough for Hedwig to be able to fly through. She then walked back to her bedroom, got dressed in her traveling clothes, and pulled her hair back into a tight twist. She slipped on a pair of shoes, and grabbed her few bags before looking around her destroyed apartment home.

She walked back out into the front rooms, her shoes clicking on the hardwood flooring, and saw that Hedwig had gone, leaving a few crumbs behind her that Hermione didn't feel like cleaning up. She walked out the door, locking it behind her. She then stored all her bags in her car before making her way to the office building where she paid her apartment bill for the next two months, so that she wasn't evicted.

She drove to the airport, in a sort of daze and before she knew it, she was handing her luggage to the luggage carriers and then boarding the plane to London. She was sat next to a man who was already asleep, mouth hanging open, and the window. She pulled her hair out of the pins that it was held up by and combed through it with her fingers.

'I'm really going back,' she thought silently. 'I thought this day would never, ever come.'

Hermione briefly shut her eyes, allowing visions of memories flash past her eyes. She remembered good times and bad times; she saw happy occasions and glum ones. And they all came from the time period that she spent in Britain. None of them came from Delaware.

She opened her eyes again, only to hear the co-pilot announce that it was time for take-off, and ask if they could please fasten their seat belts now. Hermione did so without question, and glanced out the window for her last picture of Delaware for two months. Her mind's camera clicked, and she tucked the vision away in a file entitled "Rainy Days and Plane Take-offs."

She felt the plane turn and roll down the runway, gathering up speed, and just before the planes nose tilted towards the sky Hermione snapped her eyes shut, only to relive and savor the times she and Harry or Ron had flown on their broomsticks. It was so different from anything else she had ever felt and while she doubted that she could ever understand or appreciate Quidditch, she was at least able to empathize with the breath-taking experience that flying afforded her.

As soon as the planes ascent into space had leveled out, Hermione reclined her chair all the while keeping her eyes shut, preparing herself for the eight-hour flight. She usually preferred not to eat on flights; she was prone to motion sickness and she did not usually enjoy the movies the flight attendants popped into the players. At the moment it was some muggle film entitled The Labyrinth.

Speaking of muggles, Hermione had chosen to live as one for the last nine and a half years. She figured the less she practiced magic the less she would yearn for home.

It hadn't worked all that well.

Only her parents knew where she had run off to and they hadn't argued with her nearly as much as she assumed they would. Of course her mother had gotten all teary-eyed and emotional, and her father had deemed it necessary to juxtapose his wife's reaction. He had acted stubborn and stoical to say the least. But in the end they had understood why she had to leave.

Now however, she was coming back and she hadn't called or anything to tell them she was coming. She wondered what they would do when she dropped her bags on their front doorstep, and retrieved her old key from the cavernous depths of her purse. She supposed they might imagine they were seeing a ghost. All that would matter however, is that she was home. They would be so pleased they would probably throw a party in her honor. She hoped they wouldn't. She supposed that enough chaos and raucous from her friends and their families would result upon her return.

All she could see in her minds eye was Harry in the Leaky Cauldron, awaiting her arrival. All she could envision was Ron's shocked face when she showed up at St. Mungo's. And she couldn't think of what Draco would do if he saw her strolling the streets of London after almost ten years of absence from the country.

The man next to her grunted loudly, awakening her from her reverie she had escaped to. She shifted uncomfortably next to him, undoing her seat belt on the way and turned her entire body to the window, to drift into a slight, drowsy sleep.

---

She awoke a good while later to the co-pilots voice, which was announcing their descent into the hazy, snowy airport that was London. Hermione fastened her seat belt once more around her slim waist, and looked out the window to her hometown.

From a bird's eye view, it looked grey and black, with splotches of white coloring here and there. The streets were wet and covered in inky-slush and spiraling church spires stretched their fingers to the sky. Sooty smoke emitted from many chimneys, and heavy red brick was in some places scorched from fires. Many trees in the parks that littered the city were naked skeletons of what they used to be, black and stoical.

London was really a gorgeous city, one of the most gorgeous in the entire world.

As soon as the plane landed and stopped all motion, many people rushed to get off. Hermione just sat and stared out of the tiny window until only a few people had yet to depart the plane. She grabbed her purse, which was the only carry-on she had brought with her and made her way to the luggage pick-up station. Upon retrieving her suitcase and duffel bag, she went outside to haul a taxi.


	3. A Few Simple Meetings

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Three: A Few Simple Meetings

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione looked out of the taxi driver's window as the car pulled into her driveway. Her house sat on a hill in a housing complex called 'Drover's Run.' It was a nice neighborhood, especially in the spring and summertime.

However, it was not spring or summertime.

Thick snow blanketed the ground, except for the driveway and sidewalk leading up to the front door. Her parent's house was a simple two-story with a wrap-around porch and a back yard. Her mother loved gardening but at the moment the grass and flowerbeds were dead. The house was redbrick, with a few chimneys' spitting smoke towards the sky.

The taxi came to a halt and she stepped out of the car, paying the driver with a few Euros that she had changed back at the airport. She then walked around to the trunk of the car to retrieve her suitcase and bag. She bid farewell to the driver, thanking him and wishing him a Happy Christmas. She proceeded up the walk to the front door, which was suspiciously open.

She entered into the house that she hadn't seen in years, only to be greeted by a foyer that had not changed since the last time she had been there. A mediocre chandelier hung from the ceiling some fifteen feet above her head and she could clearly see the second landing, guarded by a rail. The walls were painted an ivory white and the flooring was dark paneled wood, covered by a faded oriental rug that had graced that floor since Hermione had been five years old.

Hermione set her bags down on the floor and stowed her traveling coat and heels in the hall closet. She then walked down the hallway into the kitchen, where her mother was standing at the counter talking on the phone and chopping up potatoes. She glanced at Hermione and smiled, giving he**r **a nice "Hello, Hermione dear, how was your day?" before turning around to the sink to wash off the potato that was in her hand. Then she froze, the phone dropping to the floor and the person on the other end repeatedly saying "Hello… hello… hello…" Mrs. Granger slowly turned around, with the potato still clutched tightly in her hand a look of stricken grief on her face.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, before smiling innocently, "Hello, mama, lovely day, hmm?"

"Hermione… Hermione… is that really you?" Mrs. Granger squeaked, her eyes as large as Quaffles.

"Yes mom, now are you going to stand there gawking at me, or are you going to come over here and hug me? Drop that ridiculous potato, by the way. I'll clean up later, and chop the rest for you." Hermione rambled, opening her arms while her mother dropped the potato and ran at her daughter with all the force of a speeding Hogwarts Express Train.

"Oh my goodness, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger said, finally gathering her voice, and pushing herself away from her daughter, now gripping her shoulders. "Oh my goodness. Don't ever do that again. How dare you. You've been gone for a decade, without so much as a call or letter or anything, and then you show up and expect me to not be in the least bit shocked?"

"Of course I knew you'd be shocked mom. And I didn't call or anything because there really was no time to call or write or anything like that…" Hermione simpered, tapering off. She walked out from under her mother's grasp, and picked up the potato to continue chopping. Her mother eyed her suspiciously.

"Hermione dear, you're so thin from the last time I saw you. Granted, it has been almost ten years, and my memory is not anything it used to be but you seem to be a mere skeleton of what you used to be. I'm betting you weigh under a hundred pounds at least."

"Mom, I'm fine. I've just been on a rigorous diet the last couple of years," Hermione lied, turning to the sink to wash another potato so her mother couldn't see the look on her face. "Mom aren't you going to pick up that phone?"

Mrs. Granger immediately stooped over to pick up the receiver and said, "Marge are you there?... yes yes I'm sorry... I got tagged down." Mrs. Granger immediately looked to Hermione, with the question flashing all over her face of whether she should tell Marge the real reason she dropped the phone. Hermione shook her head vigorously, and Mrs. Granger turned back to the phone. "No Marge, the dogs were barking at something, I had to check… yes, we do too have dogs… no, no Marge, of course you haven't seen them, Ben just picked them up yesterday… no, no I can't meet you for tea later… I'm sorry, I'll just have to see it another time… yes well, I must run… ring me later, I might be in… yes, bye now… Bye Marge!" Mrs. Granger hung the phone up on its receiver with an exasperated sigh and said, "She just never shuts up."

Hermione laughed a nervous kind of laugh, and then tense silence followed. The only noise that sang in their ears was that of the knife on the chopping board. Mrs. Granger nervously tucked hair behind her ear, and then fiddled with a small hole on her shirt that was slowly getting bigger as time wore on.

"So mom, what have you been up to for the last few years?" Hermione asked conversationally. Her mother dodged this question, and cut straight to the questions she should be granted.

"Hermione Granger, don't you even question me. Where were you? Why didn't you write? We wouldn't have told anyone where you were, you know that? So what was the big deal of secrecy? I can't believe Ben and I just let you leave. You have no idea how much I regret it now. We thought you would be gone for a few weeks, a month maybe, but ten years? Hermione, where were you?"

Hermione stared at the mountainous pile in front of her, which steadily grew higher and higher as she continued to chop the potatoes. She blinked a few times, lone tears ran races down her cheeks, and she didn't even bother to wipe them away. Finally she replied, "Mom, you have no idea how much I wanted to write. It was eating me from the inside out, but I knew that Draco could get hold of letters in the mail. I didn't want him to know where I had gone. And I didn't want Harry to know either, because he would have told Draco, and Ron would have told Harry, who would have still told Draco. And I knew that Draco would have followed me. He would have followed me anywhere. I couldn't have that. He knew what I wanted… I mean… he knew everything. It was impossible to be with him. So I couldn't tell anyone where I was. And as for where I've been the last ten years I was in Delaware… in the states… on the coast."

Mrs. Granger took all of this in, covering her face with her hands before silently walking out into the hall, putting on her coat and shoes, and then leaving the house without saying a word.

Hermione lifted her head up and put the knife down on the cutting board, blinking her tears away softly. When she was sure her mother's muffler had faded into the bleak and sodden distance down the road, she picked up her bags from the entrance hall and walked up the carpeted staircase. She made her way to her room, which she assumed was locked and was surprised when it opened with quite ease, as if it were opened everyday.

Hermione looked around the bedroom, which hadn't been bothered in ten years. Even her bed dressings were still exactly the way she had left them: disorderly, and slept in. Hermione's room was not messy in the slightest way. At the end of her bed sat her old, and disserted Hogwarts trunk, dust gathered on it. Inside held all of the keys to her past and she wondered if she should open it up.

She glanced in her age-spotted vanity mirror, and saw her reflection staring back at her, barely discernible through the thick carpet of dust that clung to the surface. Her dark eyes shone through, inquisitive and hungry, rimmed with dark lashes and her hair fell in a lush curtain to her waist, almost like a thick, impenetrable shield that would do anything to keep out her darkest fears. But her eyes, curious and strong, won the battle and she dropped to her knees, undoing the rusty padlock with trembling fingers and lifting the lid.

She waved her hand in front of her face, as dust and mothballs rushed to meet her, and sputtered a few coughs before opening her watering eyes once more. She saw the contents as she had once left them so long ago. Her wand lay on top of her robes and school uniform, which were folded in a corner. She picked it up gingerly in one hand, running the smooth, cool wood over her fingers.

"Hmmm," she muttered to herself, and whispered, "Avis," causing a few doves to burst from the end of the wand, to perch on her shoulders and head. She set the wand down next to her, pleased to find that she hadn't lost any of her magical expertise. Smiling slightly to herself, she dug through the thick piles of textbooks and notebooks, pulling them out, only to reveal more. Hermione had long ago charmed her trunk to allow more space than a normal muggle trunk would allow, so her trunk held all of her books and belongings from first year onward.

Soon a large pile of tattered old tomes sat next to her, littered with parchment, quills and inkwells. She had also cleaned out her robes and uniform; they now lay on her bed, the wrinkles carefully smoothed out. She was now picking up some of her more valuable items, including a jewelry box, and her journal. She set the jewelry box next to her and let her journal fall open on her lap, revealing her scrawled, cramped handwriting.

_12/08/97_

_Today Harry asked me to the annual Seventh Year Christmas Ball, and of course I consented. But somehow I feel that I wish Draco would ask me instead. Of course Ron wouldn't like that, and I don't know how Harry would feel on the matter either. Draco and I are on such better terms now than we ever were. At the beginning of the year, during the first couple of months, of course he was still conceited and arrogant and haughty, and everything else I ever thought of him. But now he seems different. And I don't know what inspired the sudden change. Sometimes he almost reminds me of Harry. Just some of the things he does and some of the things that he says to me. And of course he would be furious with me if I ever even mentioned this particular idea. So I won't. But I can't ignore the fact that he seems to be a much more likeable person. _

_---_

Hermione flipped through the diary until she found two dried, pressed roses in the pages. She picked them up, and was sorry to say she didn't know which of them had sent each. She handled them gently in her fingers, the enticing aroma wafting up to meet her nostrils. She set them on the floor next to her journal. The next few pages were just her worries and fears about the war and she closed it slowly, not wanting to read anymore at the moment.

She turned to the jewelry box that she had received from Draco for Christmas that same year. It was cherry-wood, embossed with her name in swirling gold ink on the top. She opened it up, only to reveal the beautiful locket that he had given her that following spring, when he had told her he would love her forever.

She lifted the locket off the silken cushion and turned it over in her hand. It was antique gold, a true Malfoy heirloom that Draco had given to her because he was sure she would be the woman he was to marry. The front was encrusted with small, smooth opals and the chain, which was gossamer thin, glinted in the small amount of light that filtered in through the sooty windows. She unhooked the clasp and wrapped it around her neck, fastening it in the back and lifting it under her hair. She closed the box, which was emitting a deep, mournful, melodic cello piece.

She set that aside as well and arranged all of her books onto her bookshelf, and placed her quills on her desk. She suspected that the ink in the pots was dried out and gummy so she threw them away in her wastebasket. She then lifted her wand and muttered a cleaning charm. Her room went from appearing derelict and smelling musty to visually sparkling and smelling of lemons and fresh linen. She simpered to herself and walked from the room to shower.

---

The next few days went by in tears and laughter. Hermione's mother finally accepted her reasons for leaving and Hermione's father was just pleased to finally have her back in the house. She went shopping with her mother the day after she arrived in London and then her father took her to his brother's house to see all of the family once more. And finally the day she was to meet Harry in the Leaky Cauldron arrived.

She drove to London in her mother's car and parked a few streets away from the pub. She had dressed fairly simple for the occasion. She wore jeans with a light brown sweater and a grey pea coat, with a black scarf and gloves. She had pulled her hair back carelessly into a clip and a few pieces had already escaped. Her wand was kept in the inside of her jacket.

The walk to the pub barely took any time. It was snowing out, as it normally was during this time of year, and snowflakes clung to her eyelashes and fell into her hair. Hermione remembered her way around London very well, considering all of the time she had spent away. Before she knew it she was looking at the restaurant she hadn't looked at in a decade. She entered the Leaky Cauldron in a flurry of snowflakes and chilly wind and was immediately greeted by the type of people she hadn't seen in years.

It was warm in the pub and many witches and wizards sat around the tables, rosy-cheeked and smiling, clutching their parcels and packages and talking serenely over lunch. Hermione spotted Tom, the tooth-less bartender, dusting off glasses with a clean white rag, and made her way over to him.

She smiled at him when he spotted her and she took a seat at the bar. "Hello, Tom, long time no see, hmm?"

He smiled back, and said, "Hi Hermione, I haven't seen you since before you graduated. Where've you been?"

"Oh long story, but it's nice to see you too," she replied sweetly. "Umm… I'm supposed to be meeting Harry Potter here at noon, has he arrived yet?"

"Oh yea, he's sitting over at that table in the corner," Tom answered, pointing it out to Hermione, and she turned around, spotting where Tom was pointing. Someone was sitting at a table in the corner, but was shrouded in Daily Prophet newspapers.

"Oh yes I see now. No wonder I couldn't see him before. He's hiding. Well, thanks Tom," Hermione said, getting off of the barstool.

"Of course. And how about a drink?" he asked her, dropping the rag and glass he was wiping off and walking over to the cabinet.

"Oh, sure… how about a vodka with cranberry?" Hermione answered. He handed her one and she made her way over to the table where Harry sat, lowering herself soundlessly in the chair across from him. She stirred the acidic drink in front of her, and took a few sips before setting it on the table.

"Interesting?" she asked him, since he appeared to be so deeply immersed in whatever article he was reading. He jumped noticeably, and looked over the rim of his newspaper, before setting it down and folding it gently. Then he turned his forest-green eyes on hers, and sighed heavily.

Not much had changed about Harry. His hair still sat untidy and unkempt on his head, dark as a raven's wings, and glasses still slid down his nose every few minutes. He kept his bangs long, to hide the scar that was tattooed on his forehead, and there were sharp creases and lines that dug painfully into the skin around his eyes.

She smiled softly and sheepishly said, "So how're things?"

Harry arched a sardonic eyebrow, and then sighed heavily again, running a hand through his hair. His facial expressions softened as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Glad to see you could show." Harry replied, avoiding her question. "You don't look much different," he added, lying.

"Thanks I guess. How's Molly?" Hermione asked, raising her auburn eyes to meet his.

He stifled a yawn and said "Not good. I didn't think you would come."

"We all do unpredictable things, don't we? Did you just come from St. Mungo's?"

He nodded and rubbed his eyes before absentmindedly running a hand through his hair again. "When did you leave?"

"The morning after Hedwig came with your letter," Hermione replied, stirring her drink with a spoon that lay on the table. "I came as soon as I could, you know. I'm here for two months."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and something stirred behind them but he quickly shoved it down. "Where did you go?"

Hermione lowered her eyes again and rested her head on one fist. She sipped her drink and wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand, a simple childish gesture, before slowly raising her eyes to look at him again. "Well," she answered, still avoiding his piercing gaze. "I went down south, to the states. My apartment is on the Delaware coast line."

"That explains your weird accent," he replied. "Why'd you stay so long?"

"Oh well, I like it there," she bluntly lied. "It's nice."

Harry narrowed his eyes again, but did not reply.

"Look Harry. I know you're mad at me for staying away for so long and I must admit it was a while. Not that I didn't have good reason," she added under her breath. "But it's wonderful to see you again and it's wonderful to be back."

"Hogwarts is having a Christmas reunion party for our class," Harry said, abruptly changing the subject.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief, her eyes narrowed in shock and apprehension. She immediately began absentmindedly fingering the locket that hung around her neck.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," Harry replied quickly, immediately noticing her fidgety antics. His cold, stoical demeanor melted fast. "And you can't let that prevent you from going to see them all. You know I work at Hogwarts now?"

"Really?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow and sounding thoroughly impressed. She seemed to have forgotten her previous reservations upon Harry mentioning a teaching position.

"Yea and McGonagall asks about you sometimes. She says that if you ever come back to tell you that Dumbledore wants you to take up teaching there."

"Oh," Hermione replied, sounding quite shocked. She mulled it over for a few seconds, and then glanced at Harry again and added, "But I have a wonderful job back home. I can't leave that. I've gotten so accustomed to life over there."

Harry's shoulders visually sagged. "Well I have two months to convince you to stay, hmm?"

Hermione looked skeptical. "I suppose," she doubted. "So when did you start teaching?"

"A few years ago, after I retired from Quidditch." He answered.

"Oh, so you did play Quidditch then?" she exclaimed. "I remember before I left that a few teams where offering you positions. Which did you accept?" she added, sounding slightly apologetic.

"England. Ron still plays Keeper, you know."

"Oh that's wonderful. How is Ron, by the way?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Oh he's spanking, you know. He's married. Her name is Sinead, if you ever get around to going by there and meeting them. He met her when the team played Ireland for the first time, because she was Chaser. She's retired now since they have kids. "

"Why don't we go by there now?" she suggested, downing the rest of her mixed vodka in one gulp.

Harry's brow creased in disbelief before he sputtered a disbelieving "Now?"

"Yes of course. We can travel via Floo," Hermione answered, puckering out her bottom lip. "Just let me duck into the loo for a mo', okay?"

"Sure, lemme pay Tom."

Hermione met him at the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace a few moments later and brushed her hair out of her face before smiling sheepishly at him once again. She clasped his hand in hers, not noticing how sweaty it was.

"They're all at the Burrow. We just visited Molly earlier, and I told them I might stop by, so they're expecting me. But they're not expecting you. Hermione, they haven't seen you in almost a decade so don't get upset if they act like they've just seen a ghost." He said as he added the dust to the roaring fire in the grate.

"Okay don't worry. I prepared myself for this on the plane ride over." Hermione said. "And Harry? It really is nice seeing you again. I forgot how comforting your presence is, even if it is over a couple of drinks in a pub." She added, genuinely smiling at him this time.

"It's nice to see you, too," he mumbled before shouting "The Burrow!"

The next few seconds they were spinning in disarray, Hermione clutching tightly to Harry's hand, before being spit out again in a warm, cozy living room full of laughing, smiling redheads. Hermione stood up with the help of Harry, and dusted her clothes and hair off, before turning to the blank, shocked looks of the people in the room. She waved sheepishly.

"Hi, everyone," Hermione said, grinning apologetically. Ginny Weasley, who was standing behind one of the couches, dropped a glass something.

"Reparo," Hermione said automatically and the cup plate flew back up into her hands.

"Hermione?" she breathed finally.

"Yep. It's me. How are you? Where's Ron?"

"I'm right here," he replied, as he walked into the den and stopped dead immediately upon seeing Hermione. He stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds and then he had practically attacked her the next. She wrapped her arms around him as well, and then when he stepped back his eyes spelled elation and incredulity. "Where have you been?"

"Long story. In a nutshell Harry wrote to me, telling me that Molly was sick, so I came as soon as I could, you know."

"Wow," Ron said, stepping back to get a better look at her. His hair was still as coppery as ever with a few grays interwoven nonchalantly and his chocolate-brown eyes searched hers intently, almost in disbelief. "It's almost like seeing a ghost." He muttered.

"Ron Harry told me you got married? Congratulations, please introduce me to her." Hermione hurriedly said.

Ron turned around and gestured to a woman sitting on one of the couches. She was simply beautiful, with long, thick, auburn-brown hair that stretched to her waist. Sea-green eyes lined with curled lashes peered out from under her fringe. She smiled sweetly and handed the baby in her lap to Ginny, who was still standing behind the couch, slack-jawed, and stood, revealing a tall, slender-frame clearly built from years of Quidditch training. She held out a hand to Hermione, who took it gingerly and said in a rich, deep voice swimming with Irish accent, "Hello my name is Sinead. Pleased to meet you."

"Pleasures all mine of course," Hermione replied, returning the smile with one of her own. "I'm Hermione Granger, friend of Ron's from Hogwarts."

"Yes, yes, yes. I've heard much about you. Where've you been all these years?"

"Oh around," Hermione replied quite lamely, tucking a piece of hair behind an ear and nervously fiddling with one of her belt loops.

"Oh Hermione, I've got Crookshanks at my flat in London," Ginny spat out, finally gaining control of her voice.

"Thank you so much, Ginny. You have no idea how much I appreciate you keeping him and all. I expect he won't even remember me. I'll pick him up tomorrow if that's okay?"

"Of course. I'll be at the Ministry in the morning, but after noon I'll be home. Me, you and Sinead can all go out for tea how about it?"

"Oh sounds simply wonderful!" Sinead said excitedly, clapping her hands together.

"Yes of course," Hermione replied hurriedly. "Harry also told me, Ron, that you had children. I'd be simply delighted to meet them."

"Well, we've had five so far and Sinead's pregnant again," Ron answered, blushing a crimson red.

"Congratulations," Hermione replied. "That's wonderful!"

"Let's see, where are they all? Here's Allyn, the oldest," he said, pointing to the little girl who occupied one of the armchairs. She looked to be about seven. Her hair was red obviously, that glowed gold in the firelight. Freckles were sprinkled lightly across her nose like brown sugar spread over a tea pastry. Her large, brown eyes were turned towards Hermione as if she had never seen anything like her before. Hermione smiled at her and she didn't smile back, just narrowed her eyes curiously. "She's a little shy," he added. "The other few are upstairs. Merlin forbid what it is they're doing."

"I think Fred's up there," Sinead replied naively.

"Corruption," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"So where's the food? I'm famished," Ron announced to no one in particular.

"I see he hasn't changed one little bit, hmm?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry.

"Not at all," he replied, laughing.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!


	4. Visitation Rights

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Four: Visitation Rights

Written by: Auburn Lily

That night Hermione stayed with the Weasley's in Ginny's room like old times, and that next morning they set out for St. Mungo's. Ron brought all of his children along, so Hermione got to meet them. After Allyn there was Siobhan and Aidan, who were five year old twins, and just as mischievous as Fred and George had been (if not more so), Brendan who was three, and Brina, the one year old baby girl. They all had golden-red hair, and brown or sea green eyes and they all were incredibly cute.

Right now they were lounging on Mrs. Weasley's huge bed. The healers had given her a large suite, considering she had been there for such a long time. Siobhan and Aidan were silently waging war on who got to sit next to their grandmother.

"Hermione dear," Molly said feebly, reaching out a wrinkled, withered hand. "I'm so glad you could finally come." She looked absolutely terrible. Her once rosy cheeks were sunken and pallor and her vibrant hair was now gray and wispy.

Hermione withdrew her hand after Molly had fallen into another sleep, and turned to Ron and Harry, who were the only other adults in the room, with concern etched all over her forehead.

"What is it she is sick with?"

"They don't know," Harry replied regretfully. "It's a mystery. They've never seen anything like it. She's been sick for an entire year. And the weird thing is, as soon as she got sick, she aged. And she hasn't gone backwards ever since. They don't know what the cure is; they don't know when it will go away. Nobody does."

Ron didn't say anything, just stared wistfully at his sleeping mum, before finally noticing what his naughty twins were doing. They had successfully knocked over all of the items that had been on top of Molly's nightstand, and were now rolling on the floor of the infirmary, sporadically knocking into the bed or chairs.

Brendan was giggling madly and Allyn, who tried to pretend she was adult-like and sophisticated like her mother, was laughing behind her hand, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"Aidan! Siobhan! Stop it this instant!" he yelled. Unfortunately for him, the twins never listened to him. Instead they knocked over a table, which was covered in magazines and heavy books and in all of the chaos and noise Molly was woken up. She looked around frantically and Hermione rushed over to her to calm her down. Ron grabbed Aidan from atop of Siobhan, who was still snarling like a rabid animal and walked to the door, before throwing him at Sinead's feet.

"This," he hissed, pointing to Aidan's crumpled form on the ground, panting and scratched, "is why they are never to be in mum's room at the same time."

Harry, in the meantime, was busy picking up the spilled items. Siobhan sat in one of the large cozies and placed her hands in her lap complacently, crossing her legs, emulating her older sister. Allyn glared at her. Her hair was extremely tangled and her freckled cheeks were flushed and bruised from continuous contact with corners and wooden objects. She sat tall, full of composure, until her father came striding back into the room, positively livid with anger. Ron pointed harshly to the door and Siobhan pouted and stood up, dragging her feet and hanging her shoulders all the way to the exit.

Hermione grimaced after Molly had calmed down and gone back to sleep.

"We should probably go," Harry said hurriedly, spotting Allyn and Brendan both eyeing the books that still lay on the ground.

"Come along Allyn, Brendan," Hermione said. Allyn, the most obedient of them all, stood up and walked elegantly from the room. Brendan, on the other hand, wishing to bask in the after math of his brother and sisters fight, refused to budge. In fact, he began to bounce on the bed. "Harry, quick, get Sinead," Hermione shut out of the corner of her mouth. Harry sprinted out of the room, and soon was back with Sinead, who immediately grabbed a kicking, and screaming Brendan from the bed. Hermione and Harry followed Sinead out of the room, closing the door silently behind them.

"Officially, our welcome has been worn out," Ron spat, looking positively maniacal with surprised wrath. He glared at Siobhan, Aidan, and Brendan (who was looking quite pleased with himself), and said, "You three are never coming to see grandmamma here again. The next time you will see her is when she is better." All three of them pouted more than they had been before.

Sinead and the others who had not been in to visit Molly yet went into the room. Hermione took Brina from Sinead, and Ron said that they would be back home.

"So Hermione," Harry said, as they walked back to the lower level. "Have you thought any more about the Christmas Reunion party?"

"Oh yes," Ron said, forgetting about his children's mishaps. "You must come. Everyone will be so surprised to see you back." Unfortunately for Ron, he did not spot Aidan, Siobhan, and Brendan sneak quickly and quietly into a door entitled "Lab Work: KEEP OUT!"

The next thing they heard was a suspicious, uproarious sound emitted from the room, and the three soon joined them once more.

"I won't go to it in a million years. No one can know that I'm back other than you guys," Hermione said firmly, clutching a sleeping Brina tightly to her chest. Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes and they all continued down the flight of stairs, Siobhan, Aidan, and Brendan keeping unusually close to them.


	5. Reunion Party

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling! Lyrics are from Switchfoot.

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Five: Reunion Party

Written By: Auburn Lily

"I can't believe I'm going to this," Hermione muttered darkly to herself as she trudged up the walk on Hogwarts grounds. It was dusk and the sky threatened to spill yet more snow on the already heavily laden grounds. The castle up ahead was lit brightly for Christmas, golden light spilling onto the glittering snow, and the only sound Hermione heard apart from the whispering murmurs of the trees was the soft crunch of her footsteps on the ground.

She brushed a few stray strands of curly hair out of her face and clutched her thick, black cloak more tightly around her shoulders. After Harry had persuaded her to come (which had taken an immensely long time), he had told her that the ball was formal. She had responded quite splendidly to this, adorning herself in a full-length, silk gold gown with black lace thrown over top. The bodice was cut low, and she wore no jewelry except for a ruby gemstone on her right hand. Her long, dark hair fell down her back in a cascading wave of rolling curls and ringlets, interwoven with black lace, and contrasting sharply with her snow-white skin and rosy cheeks. She wet her lips self-consciously as she reached the large front doors of Hogwarts.

She stepped inside, and was faced with an empty, dimly lit entrance hall. She heard soft voices and the gentle tinkling of expensive, crystal china filtering from the Great Hall. Her shoes echoed harshly off the stonewalls as she slowly made her way up the stairs and through the thrown-open doors of the Great Hall, which were thrown open to admit the alumni.. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were lit with thousands of candles, bathing the Hall in gorgeous amber light. The four house tables had been removed to be replaced with smaller, round tables topped with a few more candles and lacy table cloths. The Head's Table was weighed down with refreshments and at the end she saw a few of her old teachers chatting softly. Soft music filled the room from nowhere in particular, playing tunes that she hadn't heard since the summer before her seventh year. She glanced around the room, looking at her former classmates for the first time in so long.

She spotted Harry and Ron, sitting at one of the tables with Dean, Seamus, and Neville, their fellow, former-Gryffindors. Hermione slowly made her way over to them, sliding her cloak of her shoulders as she went. When she sat down in one of the elegant seats the three unrecognizable boys in front of her smiled, clearly indicating that Harry and Ron had already informed them of her return. Ron smiled at her as well but Harry simply stared at her in disbelief.

"Hermione," he said quite breathlessly. "You're beautiful."

Hermione blushed noticeably, but didn't reply, just lowered her eyes to the tabletop.

"So anyways," Ron said, turning back to the other three to carry on their conversation from before. "I was talking to Portis at our last practice and he said we take on Bulgaria in a few months. England hasn't beaten them in thirty years and this well be it…" Ron's voice tapered off in Hermione's mind, and even though Dean and Seamus were paying rapt-attention she couldn't seem to avoid Harry's minty-gray gaze.

_There's always something in the way_

_There's always something getting through_

_It's not me_

_It's you_

She blinked a few times and tucked her hair behind an ear. She strategically avoided his gaze for a few more seconds, searching through the crowd for any recognizable faces. However this proved futile. If it weren't for the nametags stuck lopsidedly to everyone's chests Hermione wouldn't have been able to place names to their faces.

_Sometimes ignorance rings true_

_Hope is not in what I know_

_It's not in me, it's in you_

_It's in you_

Hermione turned her muddy eyes back to Harry, only to see him staring intently at her. She blinked a few times and licked her lips again.

"… You'll have to get me tickets for when you play the American team," Dean was saying, as bits and pieces of their conversation pervaded Hermione's thoughts.

"And I want some for when you play Ireland…" Seamus interjected eagerly.

"Yea, yea, yea," Ron said, smiling.

_It's all I know…_

_It's all I know…_

_It's all I know…_

_I find peace when I'm confused_

_I find hope when I'm let down_

_Not in me, in you_

_It's in you_

"Hermione Granger?" Hermione heard in her ear. She tore herself from Harry's eyes, and looked up into a pair of black and sky-blue ones. She looked at their nametags, only to see "Parvati Patil" and "Lavender Brown" inscribed in silvery, flowing script. Age seemed to have suited Lavender well. Her light brown skin still stretched taut and firm over her round cheeks. Darker brown, childish freckles still spotted her nose and brow, and her clear eyes held an inquisitive, curious nature that hadn't faded with time. Parvati, on the other hand, still seemed to be dealing with the loss of her sister, Padma, in the war. Hair that used to be long and flowing now sat above her shoulders, chopped, dark and limp, much resembling Hermione's own. Her eyes had lost the rigorous sheen that had once resided in their depths and her skin was no longer tan and sun-kissed. Her smile was weak.

'Merlin, people never forget about anything around here, do they?' Hermione asked herself, quite contradictorily mind you.

"Hi Parvati, Lavender. How've you been?" Hermione asked conversationally.

"Oh simply wonderful," Lavender gushed, thrusting her left hand towards Hermione to scrutinize. Encircling her ring finger was a gold band, encrusted with a 2-carat diamond. It was a bit gaudy.

"Wow Lavender," Hermione simpered. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Robbie Allen," she replied promptly. "Muggle."

She sat down in an empty chair and Parvati placed herself beside Lavender, head resting on fists. She visibly pouted.

_I hope to lose myself for good_

_I hope to find it in the end_

_Not in me, in you_

_In you_

'Ugh, screw this song,' Hermione thought miserably. She point-down refused to continue her staring contest with Harry. She graciously excused herself, taking her cloak with her, saying that she needed to get something to drink. She made her way to the top table, unfortunately feeling Harry's eyes bore into her back the entire time.

She poured herself a glass of clear champagne and took a slow sip before looking over the rim of her glass to see Professor McGonagall's steel-gray eyes staring down at her. Hermione lowered her glass slowly and smiled sheepishly before tucking more hair behind her ear. One of McGonagall's notorious eyebrows arched.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall acknowledged. "It's nice to see you."

"Likewise Professor," Hermione replied quite nervously.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she continued taking Hermione's cloak from her. "Follow me."

Hermione obliged, carrying her drink with her, and followed McGonagall into a backroom, where many cloaks hung on hooks. After hanging Hermione's up her former teacher turned to her.

"I have a proposition for you."

Hermione knew what she was about to request, and sighed heavily, running her fingers through her hair absentmindedly. She had been anticipating this ever since Harry had told her of Dumbledore's desire for her to teach at Hogwarts. She feared that it would make her return to Delaware more difficult than ever.

"Yes Professor?" Hermione anticipated.

"I would be simply delighted, as would all of the other teachers and students, if you would be willing to take up a teaching position here at Hogwarts, starting next term. Arithmancy will be vacant, as Professor Vector has been desperate to retire for the last five years and we haven't had an Ancient Runes instructor for the last two. You could of course, fill both because not many students are enrolled in either of the classes."

"Oh Professor McGonagall, I would be simply honored to take up teaching here. But I only have two months of leave from my work and it would be extremely difficult to leave all I have back at home," Hermione replied making up excuses more for herself than for her teacher.

Professor McGonagall sniffed, and said, "Well please do seriously reconsider. You know, Harry has been teaching DADA and Neville teaches Herbology which, if I don't say so myself, is an extreme accomplishment for him. And I do believe that Mr. Malfoy teaches potions. Weren't you two romantically involved at some point?"

"Yes Professor," Hermione said exasperatedly. Now she really wasn't going to stay. "We were married for a short time period."

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, reminiscing. "How I do remember. September wasn't it? The ceremony was simply beautiful. And you my dear, were the most beautiful of it all."

A knife cut sharply through Hermione's heart as she was forced to remember it all… Draco proposing in front of the fire… Narcissa smiling genuinely at her… They're wedding in the Hogwarts chapel, white roses everywhere… Draco staring at her lovingly as she walked down the petal-strewn aisle… Hermione telling him she was with child… and Draco telling her he didn't want one.

She swiftly blinked away tears that were forming and clinging to her eyelashes. She turned her back on Professor McGonagall and brushed the rapidly flowing tears lightly off her cheeks.

She didn't know why every time she thought about it she got incredibly emotional. And she also didn't know why she hadn't found anyone who made her feel the same as he did. Yes Jimmy was nice, but he wasn't at all like Draco. It had happened so long ago and Hermione wondered if he had changed in any way.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder gently and turned her blurry, swollen eyes on Professor McGonagall. She wiped her mouth and smeared rouge on her cheeks. Minerva pulled a handkerchief out of her plum-colored robes and handed it to Hermione before taking her leave, shutting the door gently behind her.

Hermione wiped her face off and silently blew her nose before smoothing her hair out.

'It's going to be okay Hermione,' she thought to herself. 'You're going to go out there and you're going to have fun seeing everyone, and then you're going to go back Delaware and continue working at the hospital.'

And she did go back out there. She danced with Harry and Ron and Seamus and Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid. Heck, even Snape asked her for a dance. And she laughed and ate and drank some more and she was having as much fun as she had when she had still lived here. That is, until she saw him from across the room.

She was sitting with Mandy Broklehurst, the second smartest witch in her year and they were remembering the Seventh Year Ball when she laid eyes on him for the first time in forever. He was leaning against one of the walls in the corner, solitary, with a drink clutched in his hand. All color drained from her face as her eyes spotted him.

Mandy, spotting where Hermione was looking with wide eyes and a pale face mumbled a barely discernible farewell and took her leave. Hermione, breathing raggedly now, stood up and fled the Hall, heading for a solitary place.

Unfortunately for her, he saw her leave and quickly followed.


	6. Infidelity

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Six: Infidelity

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione took a few quick steps out of the Great Hall and immediately sprawled on the cold stone floor.

"Damn these shoes," she muttered tearing the stiletto heels from her petite feet. She then raced down the staircase, shoes in hand, and tore through the doors that had burst open of their own accord.

She took a fast left, not bothering the frost that stung her bare soles and followed stone pavement to her favorite place on the Hogwarts grounds.

The rose garden.

She plopped unceremoniously and ungracefully onto the lone bench that squatted in the center of the courtyard, and immediately cast a spell to transform the atmosphere from icy, chill winter to hot, intoxicating summer night. The roses bloomed fully, releasing their heady scent into the air and Hermione fell onto her back and shut her eyelids, enjoying as the humid, hazy air wrapped her up in its arms.

She fell asleep within minutes of her arrival, shoes falling with a loud clunk to the ground, and the breeze drying the tear streaks on her cheeks.

---

It took a few minutes for Draco to find where she had gone. He assumed the rose garden because that had been her favorite escape route back in their early years.

And sure enough, as soon as he stepped through the tall archway that was covered in budding red roses he spotted her on the bench, still as beautiful as ever, sound asleep.

When he had seen her fleeing the hall, something had stirred inside of him, something that hadn't been uncovered for so long. He had felt compelled to follow her and now he was truly looking at her for the first time in such an incredibly long while. And she was more stunning and alluring than he had remembered.

She was sprawled on top of the bench, her head tipping over an edge, allowing her chaotic hair to pool on the ground. Her crimson lips were parted ever so slightly and she was incoherently mumbling nothing words that sounded incredibly seductive to Draco. Her eyelids were dark and smoky, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. He knelt in front of her, now able to fully smell the unique jasmine that was emitting off of her. Her neck was fully exposed, bare and illustrious and incredibly enticing. A stray clump of thick, curly hair wrapped around it like a noose, and Draco could hardly resist wiping it away. Her milky-white neck led his eyes to her peaking cleavage that modestly burst from the cut in her dress, which threatened to break free with each breath that was sucked through her temptress's mouth.

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair before sighing heavily. Now that she was right here in front of him, vulnerable to his every whim, he could hardly contain himself. He sucked in a breath and bit his lip before reaching out a pale hand to wipe away the curl from her neck.

As soon as his hand brushed her hot skin he felt her tense underneath him. He wiped away the hair and slowly and softly stroked her neck and chest with the back of his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly and an alarmed expression overcame her surprise at seeing him there. However before she could cry out and tell him to stop, he had captured her lips in a full-fledged, incredibly passionate kiss that wiped all other logical, rational thoughts from her mind.

Kissing him was like waking up from a deep, horror-filled sleep. She immediately melted under his roaming touch and soon found herself kissing him back just as forcefully, if not more so.

She tangled her fingers through the angel-silk that was his hair and leaned hungrily into the kiss, tasting him for the first real time in almost nine years. He helped her sit up slowly and just as he was making his way down her neck, nipping and nicking her skin with his teeth, did her mothers voice infiltrate her head.

"… now, you just remember what happened so many years ago. I know how you forget about things and it's not good. Don't you fall under him, I tell you. It won't resort in anything good." She had said this just a few days before and as Hermione heard this, rationale overcame passionate eruption in her brain and she pushed him harshly away from herself, clutching to her heaving chest.

He fell away from her rough shove, ill-prepared for it, and found his bum land on the ground with his hands thrown behind him, still tasting her in his mouth.

He stared at her for a few minutes in disbelief and than anger overcame him.

"What did you do that for?" he asked her, almost spitting in uncontrollable rage.

"Listen up, Malfoy. Just because I'm back DOES NOT mean that you can put your hands all over me whenever you feel like it. I am NOT available, especially to the likes of you," she yelled, in between gasps of air. Kissing him had left her devoid of air, and for some inexplicably weird reason she couldn't get his taste out of her mouth, or the empty feeling that filled it after his tongue had left.

"It's not like you weren't enjoying it Granger," he retorted, just as nastily.

"That's beside the point. You have no right to interrupt my nap," Hermione said, while thinking to herself 'Although it did contain dreams of you,' "by kissing me no less. You haven't seen me in less than ten years and the first thing you do when you see me is kiss me? That clearly shows me that you haven't changed in the slightest since I left. How dare you think I would tolerate behavior like that!"

Draco snarled as he rose to his feet. He shot her one pretentious look before stalking off, leaving her alone and somehow empty feeling.

---

The next few days didn't do anything for Hermione except torture her into oblivion. Every time she slept she dreamt of passionate love scenes that involved her and Draco and every waking moment was spent contemplating the kiss they had shared and why it left her feeling so alone and empty.

The truth was she hadn't been kissed like that since Draco. No one else had ever been able to cause her to feel wanted and loved when they did. A kiss shared with others was mediocre compared to what she shared with Draco. When she was with him she was in complete bliss, and now she remembered why it was so hard to leave something she had nine years ago.

Of course all of these thoughts were done on the sub-conscious level. She falsely believed that Draco was a lustful slob who was irresponsible and selfish. She also believed that his idea of handling her becoming pregnant was immature and completely unacceptable. If he were capable of supporting her and a baby on his own then he would have loved to have had a child. However the fact that he refused to allow her to give birth to a child clearly shows, to Hermione that he did not love her.

And she also felt guilty for what she was doing to Jimmy. Granted they weren't in a typically serious relationship; they just went out and he liked to call her his girlfriend, but he wasn't really committed to her and she wasn't really committed to him. They had sex before, but to Hermione it was just going through the motions; there really was no passion or love behind it at all. It wasn't as pleasurable as her times had been with Draco were either.

When she was with Draco intimately she flew in and out of reality and her sub-conscious, which consisted of stars and nebulae's and infinitely ending tunnels lined with purple and gray cloudy walls. She swam and flew and walked and ran and hurtled towards the ground before spiraling upwards again, all in the same motion.

But things weren't like that anymore. She wondered if it would still be the same if they were together again. Of course she did want to find out, but would never admit this to anyone or anything in her lifetime, especially not him.

And she found herself dreaming up love scenes between the two of them. Like any good, whole-some girl, she had read her score of romance novels in the day and knew many techniques and ways to revolutionize sex. So of course, she formulated every different position and pattern there could possibly be so that sex would never get boring.

She did also, on the subconscious level of course, think that sex with him would probably never get boring. And she was very willing during her sleep to find this out and she most certainly did. But during the day, she knew it would never be the same again.

That is, until one fateful night when they were smashed together under an inn roof, after an immense amount of drinking. Hermione thought afterwards that maybe it was all a conspiracy, but when she asked him later he said that it was complete coincidence.

It was complete coincidence that they happened to be at the same bar that same night, which was cold and dreary and snowy, both drinking off their depression and neither one realizing it was the other until it was of course, too late.

"We only have one room left," the bartender had told them when they had both requested a room to stay the night. They were so incredibly intoxicated that there was no way the bartender was about to let them leave his pub.

"OK, well I guess that means we'll have to take it together," Hermione slurred, doing her best to sound seductive as she pursed her lips at Draco, all the while just sloshing the remnants of her fire whiskey all over him and the wood-paneled wall that stood next to them. They both were both so incredibly drunk that neither of them remembered tripping up the crocked, spiral staircase, or sloppily undressing themselves.

But Hermione did remember the intense release and pleasure that she had gotten out of the whole ordeal. It was, of course, muted and diluted because of the effects of the alcohol, but it was the best she had felt in forever. She flew up and down with him, swam in and out with him, and they did it over and over and over again until there was no strength left, and until there was no vodka left coursing through their veins, urging them on.

They did it over and over and over again until Draco collapsed on top of her, still joined at the genitals, bathed in exerted alcohol, and sweat. They did it over and over and over again until they fell asleep through the motions.

And he fell asleep inside of her, both of them breathing the others breathe, hands entangled in hair, having gone there on instinct in the heat and climax of their passion.

And the next morning they would wake to find themselves there together, still inside of each other, in a dirty, one-roomed apartment where aged, yellowed stucco wallpaper curled off the walls and floor boards creaked when even the slightest pressure was placed upon them. And they would find the sheets expelled to the floor, soaked in sweat. And they would find cold, winter sunshine leaking through the grimy windows, bathing their naked bodies in illuminating light.


	7. Waking Up Beside You

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Seven: Waking Up Beside You

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione woke that next morning to the sounds of someone violently retching in the toilet. She only had a few minutes to become confused before she felt something stir in her own stomach, and was up in no time, ignoring the closed bathroom door. She snatched up a chamber pot that sat on the nightstand and heaved until her guts were dry.

She set the chamber pot down gently, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She slowly glanced around the grimy room she currently resided in, and took notice of the windows that little or no light filtered through. She also noticed her clothes and someone else's clothes discarded heavily around the room. Her nose picked up an arduously musty scent that could only mean one thing.

Sex had happened in this room.

She wondered what had possessed her to sleep in a bed that had been so disgustingly violated in. 'Damn prostitutes,' she thought bitterly to herself. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, and bit her lip before looking around the room for a mirror.

That was when she realized that she was completely naked.

"Look pretty good like that," said a high-pitched, puberty endowed, boyish voice from the mirror. "Mind doing a little dance for me while you're at it? Great performance last night, by the way. Simply spectacular."

Hermione blushed, and then choked. "What? Performance? What are you talking about?"

"You mean you don't 'member? Pity, it seemed to me it was incredibly orgasmic, the way you were screaming and moaning the entire time. You were pretty drunk, though."

"Drunk? Moaning? With you?" Hermione asked, quite disoriented, and dreading the answer.

"Tall, blonde, drunk himself," the mirror replied bluntly, quite bored now that she wasn't going to dance for him. "I think you were screaming his name. Dray is the only thing I got out of it. You were slurring quite a bit, mind you," it added disapprovingly.

"Dray, Dray, Dray," Hermione pondered under her breath, tapping her lip with her fingertip. Than it hit her, as she remembered the silky feel of his hair, his steel gray eyes staring down at her, tittering on the brink of lust and love, and the wonderful feeling he invoked in her that she hadn't felt since that last night almost nine years ago.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes widened in shock, and she slowly backed up, tripping on an old traveling trunk that stood pushed up against the foot of the bed. She fell backwards, arms flailing, and hit the lumpy mattress, her hair surrounding her like a halo and her arms flying up behind her head. She froze, because she could smell him all over the sheets, and all over her, in her hair on her skin. She could even taste him in her mouth.

"Merlin, how many times did we do it?" she asked rhetorically.

The mirror, ignoring the rhetoric, answered promptly with, "at least four times."

Hermione groaned and at that moment the bathroom door opened to reveal a Draco, dripping wet and clad in only a white towel perched on his narrow hips. The moment he saw her laying on the bed, naked, he licked his lips.

"Glad to see you're awake," he said disdainfully, before letting the towel slide off of him. Hermione, barely able to contain herself, drank the sight of his body in as if she would never see it again. He walked over to the bed and sat down on it beside her, clasping her wrists above her head with one hand, and letting the other hand wonder freely down her body, touching her in the most sensitive places.

Her eyes widened in shock once more, and she struggled to get away from him before a little voice went through her head: "it's nothing Hermione. You know that. And you also know you enjoy it. Pressure is already building down there. So just let him do whatever he wants to you, I say." And that was true. She always had enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on her skin. And he was sending shivers through her entire body at what he was doing now. She tilted her head back, and a small moan escaped her lips before she tried once more, quite unsuccessfully, to wriggle from under his grasp.

"We can't do this," she mumbled, barely discernible.

"Why not?" Draco asked as his mouth replaced what his hand was doing. "We did it all last night, even though I barely remember it at all. I just remember what you do to me, and I know I want to be with you forever."

"We can't do it," Hermione said, a bit stronger this time. But even as she said it, and as his tongue entered her, and as she bit her lip to prevent herself from screaming, she knew what he said was true. 'No!' yelled another voice inside of her head. 'It's not right! Don't you remember what he did to you so many years ago? He made you give up your child. You left because of him. You left everything you had because of him.'

She wriggled once more unsuccessfully from underneath him and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He smirked evilly, obviously encouraged by her objections, and allowed his loose hand to wonder more freely around her body. He lowered his mouth to her neck and tasted her pale, salty skin. Hermione, caught between pleasure and recusancy, arched her back and bit her lip till it bled.

Just then, a knock sounded from the door, and a small, house-elves' head peeked through.

Draco raised his head from his journey across Hermione's chest and growled. Hermione, torn between relief and sub-conscious disappointment, ripped her wrists from his inattentive grasp and sat up, staring at the house-elf with a mixture of anger and gratitude spread like marmalade across her face.

"Pardon me, sir and miss," the house-elf squeaked, covering its saucer-sized eyes with its small hands and dropping the tray it carried. It squeaked once more and bent to retrieve the broken contents, all the while saying, "Tillie very sorry, sir and miss," positively shaking from breaking the fake porcelain. "Tillie's master sent her, sir and miss, to bring your breakfast, sir and miss."

Hermione summoned a tatty robe from a hook on the wall and after putting it on, walked to assist the elf who was about to suffer from an aneurysm. She whispered "reparo" and the tray and dishes mended together, flying back into Tillie's arms.

"Thank you kind miss," Tillie muttered.

"Thanks for interrupting," Draco said coldly from the bed, which he had sprawled out on, hands behind his head.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and then took the tray from Tillie's arms.

"Thanks, Tillie."

"Miss is most welcome. Is there anything else Tillie can get for sir and miss?" she asked, bowing lowly to the ground.

"No," Draco said, shooting her an evil glare. "But you can leave, so we can finish what we started."

Hermione snorted, and turned back to Tillie "You could get those dirty clothes, and have them washed?"

"Yes, misses," she replied hurriedly, rushing forward and scooping up all of the clothes in her tiny arms. "Tillie will have them back in no time, sir and miss." She bowed again, before rushing out the door, nearly tripping in the process.

After shutting the door, Hermione lifted her nose in the air and, without so much as a glance at Draco, stalked to the bathroom, and locked the door.

---

When she got back out, Hermione noted that Draco had gone ('so much for pureblooded etiquette,' her mind had muttered) and that her freshly laundered clothes lay pressed on the bed, which had also been cleaned. Now, instead of the room smelling like smut, it smelt of linen and old porridge that sat on the writing desk.

"Bloke left," the mirror wheezed. "I think he was a bit bummed after Tillie barged in."

"Thanks for the update," Hermione retorted sarcastically. She snatched her clothing off the bed in a bad temper, and once again slammed the door behind herself.

"What have I done?" she asked herself, as she slid down the bathroom door, curling into a fetal position. Unluckily, at that moment she got another bout of queasiness, and had to hurl some more in the toilet bowl.


	8. Meeting the Malfoys

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Eight: Meeting the Malfoys

Written By: Auburn Lily

After Hermione left the inn (upon finding that Draco had already paid for their rooming, in which she had thought 'at least he still respects women somewhat'), she had apparated to Ginny's flat in London. Ginny was there, lounging on the sofa in front of the tellie, with Crookshanks spread across her lap and half of the next cushion.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione called, slipping her shoes off and setting her purse on the kitchen counter. "Sorry I couldn't pick up Crookshanks two weekends ago. I went to visit Molly, and then went out to dinner with Harry, and Ron and his family."

"It's okay. I went out with Carter that night anyway, after you didn't show for an hour or so," she replied, clicking the remote and yawning widely. Crookshanks pawed his way off her lap, and after stretching his back and every other muscle that you might think a cat will have, curiously made his way over to Hermione. She bent down to retrieve him, and, upon recognizing her scent immediately, leapt into her arms. She was barely able to stand under his weight.

"Merlin Ginny, what've you been feeding him?" she gasped.

"Tuna, liver, raw steak, basically whatever he wants. He's quite spoiled, you know." She replied, standing up with a patchwork quilt draped around her shoulders. "Is there anything you wanted to ask me?"

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about, well, a few things I guess," she answered as she searched through Ginny's pantry for something to feed a mewing Crookshanks. She took a large tuna can out, and after opening it set it on the counter top next to her purse for him to eat out of.

"Sure, lemme just go and get some shoes and a jacket; we can get some coffee, and maybe do a little shopping?"

They got their coffee at a small coffee shop a few blocks down from Ginny's flat, and then window-shopped as Hermione told her all about the Christmas Reunion party incident, and then the little escapades that they had taken part of just last night. After she was done, Ginny thought for a few minutes before saying, "Well, I'm not in the least bit surprised, you know. It was bound to happen, kind of like fate or something cheesy like that. As much as I hate to admit it, you two are meant to be together. It 's quite unfortunate circumstances."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the insinuation that Ginny had made and retorted with, "Ginny, first we got incredibly drunk in a bar and then, in a grimy, dirty inn-room, we had repetitive sex, in which we didn't know who the either was."

"Thanks for the graphic imagery," Ginny muttered sarcastically, taking another sip of her coffee as they walked through the archway to Diagon Alley. "Besides, there's something you need to-"

"I also wanted to talk to you about Harry," Hermione cut off as they continued their window-shopping. "Every time we see each other, he looks at me really quite oddly. It's almost like he still can't believe I'm back. And he keeps trying to persuade me to teach with him at Hogwarts."

Ginny, forgetting about what she had been saying earlier, replied with, "That's because he's still in love with you, Hermione. I don't know how bluntly I can put it. I remember telling you before you left, too."

"Ginny-"

"No, Hermione, you need to listen to me. You know he stopped playing Quidditch a few years after you left and purposefully took up teaching, so in case you came back, he would look impressive to you? And this leads me to telling you something about Malfoy that you didn't know," she slowly trailed off, as Malfoy himself appeared in front of them.

"Hello, Ladies," he said politely, clasping his hands behind his back. For some inexplicably strange reason, after Hermione and he had gotten married, he had turned civil towards all of the Weasley's and had even become chummy with Harry.

They were currently in Flourish 'N Blotts and after exchanging formalities, Hermione and Ginny turned to exit. However, at that precise moment, a small, black-haired, gray-eyed little girl decided to make an entrance.

"Daddy, Daddy," she was saying, running up to Draco. "Can I get this book?" which was entitled 'Analytically Realistic Runes.'

Draco chuckled, and took the book from the girl's tiny hands, before riffling through the pages.

Hermione eyed the girl suspiciously, while Ginny suddenly turned to another bookstand, seemingly incredibly interested in a bunch of books inscribed with the title, _'Divination for Diviners' _crafted by the late Sibyl Trelawney.

"Draco," Hermione started, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Is this little girl you're-"

"Daughter?" he interrupted, looking up from the book and arching an amused eyebrow at her. "As a matter of fact yes, she is. One of four, might I add. Third oldest. Her name's Zenden. She's five." He answered shortly.

Hermione's jaw dropped, shock, incredulity, and misery etching themselves all over her face. Ginny began tugging on Hermione's sleeve and Hermione, getting the idea, smiled uncertainly and half-heartedly at Draco and Zenden, though tears were beginning to sting the corners of her eyes. She sidled towards the exit but Draco called after her.

"No Hermione, Ginny, I would like you to meet my wife, and three other children."

Hermione gulped and sub-consciously shook her head. But nobody else saw, and for some reason her feet were bolted to the ground, even though Ginny was trying to drag her out of the shop.

"Who would you like us to meet?" asked a rich, venom-sweet voice infused with an accent Hermione couldn't quite place. A tall, thin woman took her place behind Draco. She had sleek, ebony-black hair, which reached to the small of her back, and charcoal-green eyes peeked out from behind tan skin. Behind her collected three other small girls, all with the same black hair and gray eyes as the first one. Hermione could see Draco's eyes on all of the girls. She knew he was telling no lie.

"Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, of course," Draco replied jovially and out of character. "Hermione, Ginny, this is my wife, Auset. She's Egyptian, and these our other three children, Lotus, Alarica, and Nabiyre."

Hermione squeaked but made no other audible noise. Ginny however, stepped forward and thrust her pale hand into Auset's brown one and shook it forcefully.

"Nice to meet you," she said fakely.

Auset however, was eyeing Hermione. "Hermione… Hermione… Hermione… Draco, weren't you just telling me of her earlier?"

"Yes," He replied.

"Ah yes, you're my husband's mistress," she replied, smirking quite evilly.

"No Ma'am, I think that you must be mistaken," Hermione replied quickly.

"No, no, no, I don't think that I am," she replied, narrowing her eyes oddly. To Hermione, she almost appeared to seem pleased about the whole situation. "And I want you to keep being his mistress." She declared.

Draco smiled in triumph, and Ginny screwed up her face in a confused sort of expression.

"Excuse me? How dare you suggest such a thing. What right have you-" Hermione sputtered.

"He seems to have gotten much enjoyment out of it, something that I was never able to provide him with." She interupted simply. She spoke as if what she said was law and not open for argument.

Draco grinned seductively at Hermione, whose jaw had currently taken new residence on the ground. 'Something's not right here,' she thought, as she eyed Auset and the rest of his Egyptian pureblooded family. 'I'm missing something. Maybe this is all a dream.'

"Well, I do hope to be seeing more of you frequently, Hermione," Draco said, as Auset took to leaving the store.

Hermione just stared after them as they took their exit, uninterrupted by anything, Ginny right alongside her, slack-jawed once more.


	9. Morning Tea

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

A/N: In response to a review I received, no the last few chapters haven't been flashbacks, they have been happening along with the fic. Thanks for all of my reviews and enjoy.

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Nine: Morning Tea

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione stood in Flourish 'N Blotts, as wave after wave of shock knocked her down. Her fingers tingled, and she barely noticed when Ginny came back to her side.

"Hermione," she said. "Hermione?" she repeated a bit louder. "Hermione, we've got to get going."

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, absently twirling a strand of hair around a finger. "Ginny, what just happened?"

"Umm, I just bought a book by Professor Trelawney, and Draco's wife just asked you to be his mistress." Ginny replied quite bluntly.

"Okay, just making sure," Hermione replied, covering up her hurt with mere confusion and annoyance. And they left the shop, and continued on their way down the narrow, cobblestone street that was packed with anxious witches and wizards.

But, when Hermione got home that night, she couldn't help but express the misery and regret that had filled her to the brim the moment she had seen the elaborate wedding band that encircled Auset's brown finger. Her eyes choked on their tears, and her throat choked on her constricting heart that was forcing its way out of her swollen mouth.

---

Hermione woke that morning, and many mornings after that bright eyed and falsely spunky. When she was around other people, she didn't think about Draco, or his Egyptian family, because it almost felt like it wasn't realistic to do so.

But, when she wasn't around others, she couldn't help but think of him. She never thought of Auset, or any of his children. She only thought of him, bitter resentment and anger radiating off of her in heat waves, which shattered every material object in her path. She couldn't get over the fact that he had actually married.

And Jessamine had said that he would never get married.

It was positively unthinkable. That all those years she had spent wallowing in the memory of him, he had gotten married. She felt rather ashamed that she assumed he would wait around for her to come back.

And Hermione couldn't get over what Auset had said to her.

"_I want you to keep being his mistress."  
_

What an absurd request. Hermione didn't dare to think what would have to happen in order for her to fall into a trap like that. She didn't know what it was Auset was scheming, but she had a feeling that it wasn't good at all.

And then, quite unfortunately, there was the part of Hermione that secretly desired to become his mistress. She would never admit this to anyone, even herself, but somewhere it lurked, hidden in the depths of her deepest turmoil, boiling and boiling, guarded by iron spiked, fortress walls.

When Hermione was alone, she couldn't get the voices out of her head, voices from past and present, voices that haunted her, voices that painted dark splotches of color under her devil's chocolate eyes, and voices that reduced her body to a mere blob of pale, almost translucently washed-out flesh.

Voices that haunted her at night, when her defenses were low.

"_Hermione, love, will you marry me?"_

"_Hermione, don't go in there!"_

"_Hermione, please stay, Hogwarts needs you."_

"_You'll make a wonderful mother, Hermione, caring and loving and nurturing and kind… and caring and loving and nurturing and kind…"_

"_He's quicksand, Hermione."_

"_Hermione, he loves you."_

"_Hermione… Hermione… Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…"_

They were everywhere, and Hermione had a bad feeling she was going insane. The voices wouldn't stop. Everything she did to try and get them to stop was ineffective… if anything, it made the situation worse.

"_Hearing voices isn't a good sign, Harry, even in the wizarding world_," she remembered herself saying, her voice reverberating off the walls of her skull, resonating in her ears, sending tremors of vibration through her brain.

They wouldn't stop… they couldn't stop… they didn't stop.

---

It was already the beginning of February. Hermione had been in England for little over a month, and for some reason, she seemed to wake every day with serious morning sickness. She didn't dare tell anyone about the situation, and she didn't want to prove her theories correct. If what she suspected was true, she didn't know what she would do. She refused to go through what she had gone through almost nine years.

Hermione woke one morning, about a week into February, to go see Molly again in St. Mungo's. She had gone the weekend before, and it hadn't seemed that she was getting any better.

Although Molly had aged an incredible amount, she still seemed to hold her sanity. She wasn't the least bit senile, and this in itself was amazing, for she had aged an estimated amount of thirty years.

"Hermione, dear, hand me that cup of tea, there," she had asked, as they sat in Molly's suite. Early morning light filtered through the windows gently, and Hermione took the mug of lemon-scented tea from the coffee table and handed it to Molly.

"I'm going back in two weeks," Hermione announced. She was the first and only visitor of that morning, and Molly searched Hermione's eyes over the thin rim of her porcelain. "I'm going to try and get some more leave so I can come back."

"Hermione, why are you going back?" Molly asked after a few minutes of collective silence.

"Because I have a job, and an apartment full of my belongings, and I've made friends back home," Hermione answered.

"Can't you stay?"

"No," she said shortly.

"Well, I think you should. You were offered a nice job, and all of the people who really know you are back here. Back home."

"People here don't know me anymore. And this could never be my home again. Too many bad memories."

"They would know you if you let them. You haven't changed as much as you think you have. I can still see the old Hermione in there, hiding underneath a load of rubbish." Molly thought aloud as she finished of her tea. She reached for the Daily Prophet that lay on her nightstand, and rifled through it, searching half-attentively.

"I don't think it's a load of rubbish," Hermione replied respectively. "It's me."

"It's not a you anybody knows around here. You haven't even spent any real time with Harry or Ron. Don't you remember when they were your best friends?" Molly asked assertively.

"Yes," Hermione lied convincingly, or at least she thought it was convincingly. The truth was she didn't want to spend any time with either of the boys, because she suspected it would be harder to return to Delaware.

Molly arched an eyebrow at this response, but didn't reply. She perused the newspaper some more, and nibbled on the end of a flaky-looking croissant.

"Anything good looking in there?" Hermione asked after a few more moments of silence.

"No, not really," Molly closed the newspaper once more. "New minister Bartimaeus Coulter-something-or-other, messing things up as usual."

"You know, I'm not the only one around here who's changed. You've changed, obviously, and Ginny's changed. Ron still eats as much as he used to. Harry's changed too."

Molly sighed, and turned her faded blue gaze to Hermione. "You've got to understand something about Harry, Hermione." She said. "The woman he loves has been gone for nine years and she's leaving him once again. You obviously understand what it is I'm talking about, because I know who it is you're thinking about when you're not doing anything. Don't leave for the same reason you left last time. Don't be chased out of this country again. If what you really want is back in Delaware, than that's beyond my control. But I don't think that it is."

The amazing thing about Molly was that she possessed this incredible sense. It was almost as if she knew everything about everyone that she cared about.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, and turned her eyes to the landscape that lay beyond the glass windowpanes. The trees and lush hills were fake, of course, because they were right in the middle of London, where smoky automobiles turned ivory streets to oily, sooty slush, and where factory pipes reached the clouds and emitted inky-black, wispy tendrils of pollution into a thick, snow-cloud laden atmosphere.

But what Hermione saw was a beautiful spring morning. Trees blew in the distance, tall and gargantuan, and heather and peony and daffodil blanketed the rolling hills. In the distance stood a tall, stone castle on a cliff, above a sparkling lake where a giant squid basked its tentacles in the shallows. If Hermione searched close enough, she could almost see three teenagers, two boys and a girl, walking across the grounds to their favorite study area.


	10. England and Delaware

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Ten: England and Delaware

Written By: Auburn Lily

Two weeks after Hermione's visit with Molly, she flew back to Delaware. The morning was dreary and overcast, and the ocean was a steely gray, with sugary white caps that glazed the crests of waves. The further the plane flew south, the heavier Hermione's heart grew, until she felt it could fall with the rain that pelted the runway in the states. Thunder rumbled overhead as she collected her baggage, and lightening forked across the sky as she drove home in her run-down Honda Civic.

Her apartment was in a worse state of dereliction than when she had left. Unfortunately for her, the food that she had left in the microwave two months ago was now sprouting antennae.

Hermione's life had hit an all-time low. She felt worse now than ever before. Even after she had divorced Draco and come to live here. Her state of depression was unsettling, and she felt there was nothing she could do to mend the situation. She was sub-consciously angry with herself for leaving, and not just the last time. From the beginning. Perhaps if she had stayed with Draco, the one person she had ever, and could ever, love, she would be happy. Perhaps if she had stayed with Draco, brown-haired little girls would be running around Flourish 'N Blotts instead of tan Egyptian princesses.

Crookshanks was currently chasing the lively dust bunnies that haunted the corners of the apartment, and Hermione, taking pity on his sneezing soul, raised the wand that had made the trip back with her, and whispered, "_Scourgify_." The past two years of grim that Hermione had left unattended, including the shrimp fried rice monster, were wiped away to reveal cleanliness that she had thought she never would again see. Crookshanks, looking slightly putout at the lose of his playmates, sprawled across the moth eaten sofa. Hermione didn't argue with him.

Hermione truly wished that this was the way it could be. That she could simply "_Scourgify_" away the past nine years.

To put it bluntly, Hermione was still very much in love with Draco. And, quite predictably, there was nothing she could do about it.

She wondered if she even wanted to go back.

Draco was really her only reason for leaving, and he would really be her only reason for returning. He was, for some reason, repelling and compelling at the same time, and Hermione couldn't decide which force was more prominent.

Hermione set to work cleaning out her study, charming every thing to minute sizes and packing it all in a large, musty old trunk. Then she moved to her bedroom, which barely held anything anyway. She stripped the bed of the sheets and pillows, and piled them on top of the old, under-used books in the trunk. When she finished, she stepped back to admire the broken room, in all of its barren glory and wonder.

She dragged the trunk out into the front rooms, and set it next to her suitcases and shoes. Crookshanks observed her from a far, anxious curiosity etched across his squashed face.

She threw away the food that resided in the fridge, and she sent the garbage to the bin outside. She apparently didn't care about muggle precautions any longer. She conjured up a large can of fresh tuna and, after opening it, set it on top of the counter for Crookshanks to eat.

"Here," she said as she slipped her coat through her arms. "Eat this whenever, and then throw it out."

Crookshanks watched her with detached regard, and then laid his head back on the flat pillow. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, slipped her heels on, grabbed her purse, and shut the apartment door behind her, the iron numbers swinging on their rusty nails.

---

After Hermione called Jessa on her cell, she drove to the coffee shop across the street from the hospital. Jessa had told her she got off work in twenty minutes, so Hermione bought a coffee and sat down in front of the fire to wait. She had taken her shoes off of her sore feet, and now her panty-hosed toes toyed with the frayed, fading hearthrug.

Jessa limped in fifteen minutes later, and threw her purse done on an armchair before collapsing on top of it. She removed her nurses' cap from her head, and her tangle of inky-brown hair fell to her waist. Her dark eyes bled tiredness and her usually red lips were skin-colored and chapped.

"How was England?" she rasped as she tore her white keds from her blistered feet.

"Boring and unenlightening," Hermione replied darkly. "How's the hospital?"

"Boring and unenlightening," Jessa countered before getting up and ordering a double-chocolate latte with a double-chocolate brownie. She strode back to Hermione with her whipped cream mug, in one hand, and brownie-topped porcelain plate in the other. She sat down in her seat, only to shoot back up and kick her purse onto the floor with her feet.

"So," she said, as she got settled. "Let's go into more detail about your trip."

"Met Draco. Had sex. Found out he's married. Think I'm pregnant." Hermione replied bluntly, sipping her coffee in between each sentence.

"Hmmm," Jessa hummed, rubbing her chin with chocolate-laced fingertips. "Sounds quite serious. Who's he married to?"

"Some Egyptian whore," Hermione answered hostily, in a particularly crude manner. "They have four girls."

Jessa grimaced and took a sip of her latte. "Anything else happen worth noting?"

"I found out Molly's going to die, Harry's still in love with me, Ron got married to some Irish princess, and Draco's wife, Ausel-something-or-other, wants me to be his mistress." Hermione replied. "Oh, and I also got a job offer to teach at my old school next fall."

"Sounds quite exciting," Jessa said nonchalantly. "Are you going to take it up?"

"Surprisingly, I was seriously considering it. I turned it down at first, but now I'm reconsidering. I don't want to leave Molly, and if I am pregnant, I'm going to need a much more flexible job than hospital work."

"Well, if you do leave, I'm coming with you. There's nothing here for me anymore, and I can't stand it here. It's so boring when you're gone, and Jeroy has been a real jerk lately."

Hermione snorted and said, "I told you so."

"Don't even give me that," Jessa replied through gritted teeth.

"Anyways, I don't really think that you should come," Hermione said, guiltily. She had never told Jessamine that she was a witch.

"Why not?" Jessa demanded.

"Because there are a few things that you don't know about me," Hermione answered sheepishly.

"Well, than tell me," Jessa said simply, picking chocolate chunks out of her brownie, and popping them sporadically in her mouth or coffee mug.

"Well, I can't just tell you," Hermione explained. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

Jessa observed her through narrow eyes, and arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

'You can trust Jessa,' Hermione thought to herself. 'And you know you'd like it better if she was there in England with you.'

Hermione sighed heavily, and downed the rest of her coffee in one gulp. "Meet me back at my apartment. I'll show you there."

"Okay, I'll be right behind you, I just have to finish this brownie."

'See you in a bit."

Hermione strode out to her car, mentally noting that it was now late afternoon, and still torrential rain was spilling from the sky.

A/N: Hello everyone… I'm really sorry it's been such a long time since I've gotten a chapter out. This one isn't as long as I was hoping it would be (there is actually a part missing because I wanted to get the chapter out as soon as possible. That part will of course be included in the next chapter) and I'm really sorry if it's crummy work. I've been incredibly busy… but next week schools out, so hopefully then I'll have a bunch more time to write.

But anyways, down to business. I really do appreciate all of the reviews I have gotten (before this chapter goes up, I'll actually have more reviews than chapters-sarcasm is implied there), but those of you who don't review, and then expect me to update, are looking for something that won't be there for a while. When people don't review my story, I feel like no one is reading it, so I don't really have anyone to put it up for. I know that this thought in itself is ignorant, but when I don't have any reviews, I don't really feel motivated to write. So, in the end, I would really appreciate if more than one person reviews the chapters that I put up. And I think that I have reviewed all of the people who have reviewed my stories thus far. If this is untrue in any way, shape, or form, I beg your forgiveness, and please contact me immediately. But reviews really are greatly appreciated!! Thanks a bunch, and hope to have another chapter up this weekend.


	11. Flying Over Atlantis

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!! The song, entitled October, is written by Evanescence.

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Eleven: Flying over Atlantis

Written By: Auburn Lily

"So, you got any cute British friends?" Jessa called as she stepped through Hermione's closed apartment door. She slipped her shoes off, and shut the door behind her. "Wow," she observed. "It's actually clean in here for once."

"Thanks," Hermione said as she walked in from the back rooms. She held her wand in one hand, and Crookshanks was still sprawled unceremoniously across the couch, shedding his long ginger hairs on the faded upholstery. The tuna can that had sat on the counter earlier was gone.

"Hermione, you've never had a cat before, let alone an incredibly fat one."

"Ginny was watching him for me. She fed him a lot." Hermione answered. "Ron's sister," she added after catching sight of Jessa's skeptical face.

Jessa's mouth curled to form an "O" of realization, and she sat down in one of the swivel chairs at the breakfast bar. "So, what did you have to show me?"

Hermione's mouth twitched, and she thought a second before replying with, "Now, you can't get frightened or upset or anything like that, okay?"

"Sure," Jessa replied, nonchalantly picking at her nails.

Hermione tuck hair behind her ear. "Promise?"

"Yes," Jessa said slowly, looking suspicious.

"Okay." Hermione still looked doubtful. She raised the wand, and before Jessa could say anything, pointed it at Crookshanks. "Wingardium Leviosa," she muttered, and with the correct wand movement attached, Crookshanks rose up into the air. Hermione directed him over to Jessa's lap, and he plopped down with a heavy thud.

Jessa, however, didn't appear at all surprised. She stood up, Crookshanks still in her arms, and bent over to her purse. She dug through for a moment, and the next, she straightened up, holding a long wand in her hand as well. She smirked, and said, "Now, there's something I should probably show you."

Hermione didn't answer, just stared dumbstruck.

Jessa pointed her wand at one of the walls, and said quite clearly "Exubero Hedera." Green, lush ivy crept up the wall from roots that had embedded themselves in the hard wood flooring of Hermione's apartment. Jessa turned, and pointed her wand at the cabinets in the kitchen. "Patefacio" she said promptly, and the doors all swung on their hinges, to reveal empty shelves gathering dust. Lastly, she pointed her wand at Crookshanks, and muttered "Crinis Effundos." All of his thick auburn hair fell out, to pile on the ground.

Hermione, too shocked at the moment to say anything other than, "Crinis Exubero," which blanketed Crookshanks once again in thick fur, stared at Jessa in disbelief.

"Why did you never tell me before?"

"Why did _you_ never tell _me_ before?" Jessa questioned, allowing Crookshanks to leap out of her arms.

"Wow. If this isn't the biggest shocker that I've ever received…" Hermione trailed off.

"Well, I guess that secures my place on a plane to England."

Hermione just stared at her.

"Jessa, I don't even know if I'm going." Hermione replied, abandoning her surprise, as she dragged another trunk out of the hall closet. She opened it, and threw more books into it from the bookshelf next to the entertainment center.

Jessa ignored this statement, and asked when she needed to be packed.

"Uh… what's today?"

"Saturday."

"Okay, be ready to leave Monday morning. I'll buy some tickets tonight."

"Do you have an apartment or something in England?"

"Well, I was kinda staying with my parents."

Jessa arched an eyebrow, but didn't reply.

"But, we can get a flat or something when we get there," Hermione offered quickly.

"Ugh, Jimmy's been switching my hours around." Jessa abruptly changed the subject.

"Jimmy's not going to be too happy with me quitting," Hermione answered.

"I know," Jessa thought aloud.

"Whatever. I wish I had never gotten involved with him, romantically, of course. He really wasn't the best I've ever had. He was kinda overprotective." Hermione stood up to fold the blankets on the couches.

Jessa was currently rifling through the empty fridge. "What do you eat around here?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"I was planning on going out to dinner tonight. I need to buy the tickets, and then I need to run by the hospital to talk to Jimmy," Hermione called from inside the hall closet.

"Where do you wanna go?" Jessa asked as she munched on stale saltines she had somehow managed to conjure up out of the empty pantry.

"Um… how 'bout Finley's Fish House?"

"That's fine. I'll meet you there at seven."

"Kay," Hermione called from underneath the couch.

"Oh, by the way," Jessa said from the door. She raised her wand once more, and flicked it once. All of the loose objects in the room immediately shrank, and flew into Hermione's trunk.

Hermione sighed, and said, "I could've done that, couldn't I?"

"Yea, I think so." Jessa replied. "See ya later."

---

Hermione purchased the tickets quite easily, but quitting and breaking up with Jimmy proved to be much more difficult.

"Hey, Cassie," Hermione had said as she approached the middle-aged woman behind the desk. The fake, lacquered woman, who was slightly overweight, glanced up from the screen and smiled pink-glossed, thin lips at Hermione.

"Hey, hon," she replied, popping her gum and swiveling her chair to face Hermione. "Coming back to work?"

"Actually, no. Have you seen Jimmy?"

"Yea, he's back in the cabinet." She answered, pointing a meaty finger ending in a scarlet talon down the hall.

"Thanks."

"Anytime," Cassie drawled, flipping bleach-blonde hair over her shoulders and turning back to her work.

Jimmy was a handsome fellow, with blonde hair, and baby blue eyes. He was tall, and nicely built. Hermione assumed the only reason she was particularly interested in him was because he physically resembled Draco.

"Hi, darling," he said as soon as she entered the cabinet. He was seated at one of the out-dated computers, and was dressed in the electric blue of doctor's uniforms.

"Hey," Hermione replied.

He stood up and kissed her forehead. "How was England?" he asked. "I missed you."

"Oh, it was fine."

"Ready to come back to work?"

Hermione sighed. "Actually, no." she repeated.

Jimmy turned back to his computer, and commenced to look up a patient's record.

"Well, you have to."

"I'm going back to England," Hermione announced.

Jimmy chuckled. "But Hermione, dear," he protested. "You don't have any leave left."

"I don't need leave, Jimmy. I'm quitting."

Silence ensued for a short few minutes.

"WHAT?" Jimmy bellowed.

"I'm quitting," Hermione repeated simply. "And I guess you could say I'm breaking up with you."

Jimmy's anger evaporated quickly. "Hermione, no, please. Please don't leave me."

'Jimmy, I have to leave now. My surrogate mother is dying. Besides, I hate it here."

"But Hermione, I love you."

"WHAT?!" It was Hermione's turn to yell.

"I love you, Hermione."

"No, no, you don't. You're just saying that so I don't leave. Well, I'm leaving." Hermione turned to the door, but before she could reach it, Jimmy had grabbed her arm. He spun her around and Hermione noted that he was in fierce tears.

"No, Hermione, I really love you, please don't leave me."

Hermione tore herself from his grasp, and backed into the door, which, unfortunately for her, was locked. 'How did that happen?' she asked herself.

Jimmy got onto his knees, and crawled towards her. "Hermione," he sobbed. "There's something I need to give you." He reached into his coat pocket, and dragged out a white box shrouded in fake velvet.

Hermione gasped audibly, knowing what it was, and before anything else could be done, she had turned on her heel, unlocked the door, thrown it open, and raced down the hall. Jimmy's anguished cry could be heard throughout the corridors.

---

Monday morning met Hermione and Jessa at the airport, an hour before their plane was to leave. They had already gone through customs and luggage check and security. Now all they had left to do was lounge on the light blue, plastic chairs that were provided for their leisure.

"I still can't believe that he almost proposed," Hermione said.

"Hmph," Jessa replied sulkily. She crossed her arms underneath her bosom, and shifted quite uncomfortably in the bench.

"Why are you so grumpy?" Hermione demanded.

"At least he loved you."

"I highly doubt that he really loved me," Hermione countered, pulling her unruly hair back and sticking it in place with two pens. "He was a desperate slob, overprotective, and way too sensitive. He was blubbering all over me, for Merlin's sake."

"Hermione, you broke his heart."

Hermione ignored this. "I, for one, think that he's emotionally unstable. What did he do when you told him you were quitting?"

"Nearly had an aneurysm," Jessa answered, abandoning her sensitive mood. "He went off on a rampage. He told me that I only quit because you did, and he told me to tell you that he hated you, and that if you ever placed foot on his floor again, he would call the police.

Hermione flinched. "See, I told you he never really loved me."

"I think he was just bitter," Jessa replied, toying with the hem of her skirt, which was beginning to fray.

"Oh, well, I don't really want to talk about it right now. Tell me about your wizarding background."

Jessa sat quiet for a few minutes, and said, "My parents are very unhappy about me leaving. When I told them I was leaving the hospital, and going to England with you to live as a witch, they freaked out. They said that the job I carried now was respectable."

"Well, weren't they the reason you left home?"

"Yea, one of the reasons."

Hermione caught the vibe that Jessa didn't want to talk about her home life at the moment.

"What school did you attend?" Hermione asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Guadahara's Witchcraft Institution for Women," Jessa replied. "It was probably the strictest school in the western hemisphere."

"What were the core subjects?"

"Probably the same as yours: Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration… etc. You know, just the basics."

At that moment, their plane was called, and they picked themselves up to make their way to the boarding group.

Jessa fell asleep after 20 minutes of the gentle humming and rocking of the plane. Hermione, on the other hand, just sat there, staring at the movie screen, which was playing an over-dramatic rendition of Titanic. It was quite boring, to say the least, and Hermione's attention was wavering.

Her eyes glazed over, until the people that surrounded her resembled mere blobs of color and flesh. The airplane seats meshed with the carpet and ceiling, and the lights grew dimmer and dimmer, until they emulated candle's hovering in the air above them, dripping hot wax down.

_Pale, silvery ghosts weaved in and out of the crowds of students, who were dressed in their finest attire. They danced to a hauntingly beautiful voice, which was accompanied by an orchestra of viola's, cello's, and a piano. Amber torches hung from iron, rusty brackets on the Hall's walls, and huge, glowing, ominous pumpkins occupied the corners of the Hall in groups. Hagrid had clearly outdone himself that year. _

_The soft crunch of leaves breaking underfoot resonated through the masses of students as they trod on dried leaves, tawny and scarlet and gold, that littered the ground. The sky reflected in the Great Halls ceiling was inky-midnight, speckled with thousands of sparkling diamonds, and a giant, creamy orb of cheese hung lower, it seemed, than ever. _

_The scent of simmering cider and pumpkin juice wafted throughout the room, along with tons of different pies and candies that weighed down the top table. Many students were socializing as they ate, seated at the petite round tables, which were covered in black lace tablecloths. _

_Hermione observed her handy work from a table in the corner. She was currently alone, her date having gone to mingle with the Slytherins, and she was feeling rather proud of the way the Hall had turned out. _

_Hermione herself looked more splendid than the Hall itself, although she refused to acknowledge it. She wore a cerise-auburn gown, which reached her high-heeled feet, and extended far behind her in a train that clung to leaves. Her arms and neck were bare, save for the lacy black shawl that clung to her shoulders, and her pale, flawless skin shone brightly in the luminance of the moon. Her dark, curly masses of hair hung down her back, embedded with small, blood red rose buds. Her bark-colored eyes sparkled, and her full lips longed to meet one other particular person's. _

_She watched Harry and Ginny dance at the edge of the floor, encased in each other's arms. Hermione knew that it was only for show. Neither of them harbored feelings for the other that exceeded friendship any longer; still, Harry was a gentleman, and requested a dance with her. She also spotted Ron, who was currently dancing rather raucously with Luna Lovegood in the center. They were accompanied by a few other couples, and seemed to have failed to notice that fact that the song they were dancing to couldn't possibly be danced to in such a manner. _

_Hermione stirred her cider with a cinnamon stick, and stared at her uneaten pie. The song that was being played had changed, and before Hermione could register it, Harry was at her elbow, requesting a dance. _

"_Of course," she said_

I can't run anymore

I fall before you,

Here I am,

I have nothing left

_Harry led her to the edge of the floor and Hermione spotted Ginny taking her vacated seat. Ginny smiled mischievously at her before stirring the cider that Hermione had left behind._

Though I've tried to forget,

You're all that I am,

Take me home,

I'm through fighting it

_She took one of his shaky hands on hers, silently noting that it was sweaty, and placed his other on her hip. She slide her other hand up onto his shoulder, and smiled at him. _

Broken,

Lifeless,

I give up,

You're my only strength,

Without you,

I can't go on,

Anymore,

Ever again

_Harry smiled back at her, slowly and nervously. He glanced into her eyes for a short moment, before averting them to look at other things. _

I can't run anymore,

I give myself to you,

I'm sorry,

I'm sorry,

In all my bitterness I ignored

"_Harry," Hermione whispered. He glanced back down at her, bark-brown meeting leaf green, and that was the moment in which Hermione thought that he was who she was supposed to be with for the rest of her life._

"_Yes?" he asked, inquisitive radiance seeping from his eyes and mouth. _

All that's real and true,

All I need is you,

When night falls on me,

I'll not close my eyes,

"_What's the matter?" Hermione replied. _

"_What do you mean?" _

And you're too strong,

I can't lie anymore,

I fall down before you,

I'm sorry,

I'm sorry

"_You seem... I don't know… antsy, I guess is the word for it." Hermione replied. _

"_Oh," Harry said, reflectively. He looked down at his shoes, and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. _

Constantly ignoring,

The pain consuming me,

But this time it's cut too deep,

I'll never stray again.

_When he looked back up into her eyes, he didn't seem to see what he had been hoping to see. But, instead of giving up, he leaned into her, and captured her lips in a ripe kiss, full of seventeen-year old type love, and he dropped her hand so he could wrap his arms around her waist. She responded fully and whole-heartedly, leaning into the kiss, and into his arms. _

_The song ended. _

Hermione was jolted from her bittersweet memory by turbulence, and heard the pilot announce that they were soon to be landing. She shook Jessa awake, and when the plane landed, they followed the crowd into the airport, snatched their luggage from the conveyer belt, and went to sit out in the snow, awaiting a taxi.

A/N: Another bloody chapter up, because I had a half day in school today… it was very nice.

Lady Of Ankoku: ding ding ding ding… Jimmy, please show our winner her prize… yes, you were right about Jessa being a witch. I wasn't trying to make it too obvious… or maybe you just presumed that would happen… I don't know… thanks for reviewing though. They mean a lot to me. Next chapter should be up this weekend some time. Hope you liked it.

As for the rest of you, please pretty pretty please review. I'm not going to stop updating all together if you don't review, but it will be a lot slower than I could. I really do appreciate them.


	12. New Cirriculum

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Twelve: New Curriculum

Written By: Auburn Lily

Jessa and Hermione did not stay at Hermione's parent's house, after all. They instead took the taxi to the street outside of the Leaky Cauldron, and in the dusting snow, walked inside.

It was warm and rosy inside the pub, and Hermione, levitating her trunks and suitcases behind her, sought out Tom to find them some rooms. Jessa stood right behind her, finally entering upon the world that she had been absent from for so long. She brushed snow from her eyelashes and, taking a leaf out of Hermione's books, levitated her luggage as well.

"Hermione, what can I do fo' ya?" Tom asked loudly, emerging from underneath the bar. He held a white rag in one hand and about four butterbears in the other.

"I just need a room, please?"

"Right-O, follow me," he replied, setting down the rag and bottles on the counter. He walked around the bar, and Hermione and Jessa followed him up the stairs.

"Thanks, Tom," Hermione said, as he opened the door to room number 25, and stood back so that they could walk through.

"Anytime, anytime. We always got rooms. Introduce me to your new friend here?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. So sorry, this is Jessamine Sanchez, my friend from the states,"

"Jessa will do," Jessamine said, holding out a hand to shake Tom's.

"Pleased to meet you," Tom replied, taking her small hand in his large one.

"Likewise," Jessa answered.

"Well, I'll leave you two girls to it. If ya need anything, just holler," Tom informed them, before turning and shutting the door behind him.

Hermione let her trunks fall from her wands control with a loud thunk.

"What do you want to do?" Jessa asked, as she walked over to the armoire and began packing her clothes into it.

"I dunno," Hermione replied. "We could explore Diagon Alley, we could run by Hogwarts so I can tell them that I will teach there next year, we could go by-"

"Oh, lets go by Hogwarts, I want to see it," Jessa said.

"Okay," Hermione replied. She opened her trunk and drew out a long, dark gray cloak, and picked her purse off of the bed where she had thrown it. "Let's go."

Jessa grabbed her cloak as well, and they made there was over to the fireplace that sat in their room, so they could floo over to Hogwarts.

---

Granted, it was Monday, mid-day, so classes were in session. Hermione and Jessa flooed straight to Dumbledore's office, and were surprised to see him there.

"Hermione Granger," he said from his desk. "I've been expecting you."

"Hello, Professor," Hermione replied, dusting herself off. Jessa was doing the same beside her. "This is Jessamine Sanchez; she's from the states."

"Nice to meet you," Dumbledore answered from behind his desk.

"Hello," Jessa said, a bit breathlessly. "I haven't done that in a few years."

Hermione chuckled, and turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, I have reconsidered the proposition Professor McGonagall gave to me Christmas, and I would be ever so pleased to take it up."

"Brilliant. I will let you know of all of the course requirements, and so forth as soon as possible. I suppose I could escort you to the classroom that you will be teaching in, and your office and chambers in which you will be taking residence. If you'll just follow me?" Dumbledore replied, standing up behind his desk.

"Yes, of course."

Dumbledore led them out of his office, and through the corridors, all the while asking her questions about the courses she was to teach.

"Now, you are taking up both vacancies, am I correct?"

"Yes, I planned on it."

"Good, good. We recently got the schedules from all of the students planning on taking Arithmancy next year, and I will need to announce tonight at supper that Ancient Runes is now open next year. There aren't that many, and I'm sure you will be able to handle it."

At that moment, they reached the classroom that Arithmancy was held in, and Hermione could faintly hear Professor Vector's voice giving a lecture.

"Here we are, you know this classroom, and I'm sure. Both classes will be held in this room, that way you won't have to migrate every day or so. I'll show you the office behind it, and your quarters, after classes are over. I'd be honoured if you and Jessa could join us for supper tonight?"

Hermione blanched at the offer, and turned to Jessa, who looked at her encouragingly, but didn't say anything except, "Professor, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

"Of course, Jessa. Hermione, if you could excuse us?" Dumbledore answered.

"Yes," Hermione replied, shooting Jessa a curious look, before turning down the corridor. When she looked back over her shoulder, Jessa and Dumbledore had disappeared.

---

Hermione had spent seven years of her life at Hogwarts, and here she was again, about to open another chapter of her life. But she wondered if she was doing the right thing, by coming back. It was all very sudden… she had just been in Delaware that morning, and now here she was, in Hogwarts, planning her future.

"Hmm, I wonder if Harry's in, teaching DADA?" she thought aloud. It was Monday, after all.

She made her way through the chill, drafty corridors, following her memories footsteps to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom.

The door was open, and full of small students who were learning theory. "First years," Hermione thought to herself.

Hermione stepped through silently. Harry had his back to her, and she just stood in the doorframe, watching him talk to the students about the subjects that only Hermione could find interesting. She chuckled to herself as a little girl in the front row, with long dark hair, and almond-shaped eyes, shot her hand up every time a question was asked. Those students around her rolled their eyes at her.

Harry turned around when he heard her laugh, and smiled at her. "Class, excuse me, get to work on the essay I assigned at the beginning of class." He made his way over to her, and immediately the students broke into a bout of loud whispers about who they thought Hermione might be.

"I thought you left?" Harry asked.

"I did, but then I came back. I changed my mind about everything," she said, smiling gently at him.

"Did you see Dumbledore about that teaching position I told you about?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Next term I start. I have to read up about the subjects this summer. I've been away for such a long time. Who has this class?"

"Gryffindor and Slytherin. Can't you tell by the murderous glances their sending each other?"

"I should've known, shouldn't I?" Hermione replied dryly.

"I should introduce you, seeing as you'll be a new teacher next year. What are the classes you're teaching?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that. I think Dumbledore is announcing it at dinner tonight."

"I insist," Harry replied. "Tell me."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and answered, "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Hem hem," Harry said, bringing back dreadful memories of a former DADA instructor, and tyrannical ministry official. Hermione laughed silently. "Class, sorry for interrupting, but I would like to introduce a new teacher for next year. I know that none of you will have her, because you must be a third year or above to take these classes, but I thought it would be nice if you knew her ahead of time, hm?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione simpered from the door. "You really shouldn't."

"Oh, but I should." Harry replied evilly. "Class, this is Professor Hermione Granger and she will be the instructor of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. But you can come to her for help in any other class. She didn't get twelve N.E.W.T.'s for nothing, you know."

The class clapped and Hermione hid her face from view. "Harry…" she muttered softly.

The cuckoo clock on the far wall spat out a diricrawl, which trilled four times, signaling the end of classes, and Harry dismissed the class with a wave of his hand.

"Dinner's in two hours. Do you want to go for a walk in the mean time?"

"Sounds good to me," Hermione replied, wrapping her jumper more snugly around herself.

Harry extinguished the few torches in the room with another wave of his hand, and offered Hermione his bent elbow.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Hermione smiled genuinely, and hooked her arm through his.

They walked outside, through the thin layer of snow that laced the ground, and around the lake, unknowingly tracing and re-tracing the steps that Lily and James had taken together.

They talked about everything, and nothing. They reminisced and planned for the future, in which Hermione conveniently failed to mention the small bud of life that was blooming in the pit of her stomach.

"Have you been to see Draco yet?" Harry asked. "You know he teaches Potions, right?"

"Yes, you told me," Hermione replied, brushing stray strands of hair out of her eyes with the hand that wasn't entwined with Harry's. "And no, I haven't been to see him yet. I don't even know which classroom is his."

"Snape's old one," Harry answered. "And Hermione?"

"Yes?"

Harry approached the subject carefully. "You do know that, well… that he's married, right?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah I do," Hermione replied, inwardly shuddering as she remembered the meeting, saturated in tension, in which she had met Auset. "Yeah, I do," she whispered.

"He waited two years Hermione. Two years, and then she got pregnant. He doesn't love her. He was just being reasonable, honorable, whatever you want to call it. He still loves you, incredibly."

"Harry," Hermione swallowed. "I don't want to hear it."

This, coming from Harry?

'Isn't he supposed to love me… isn't he supposed to want me?' she asked herself, odd weights of disappointment clunking through to her stomach.

Harry consented in her wish for silence, especially silence that included not talking of Draco, and Hermione was filled once more with an undeniable surge of Déjà vu. The feeling of striding arm and arm with Harry reminded her of times in the past, when all she had to worry about was a Potions essay for Professor Snape, or the construction of a Halloween ball.

They walked in silence for a while, until dusk fell, and then they followed their footprints in the snow back towards the castle.

---

The Hall was just as Hermione remembered it: candle-lit and splendid, with four long tables laden with students and food. Hermione and Harry entered through a side door of the Hall, back behind the Top Table, and Hermione spotted Jessa, with two empty seats beside her.

Hermione and Harry sat down, just in time for Dumbledore to make his speech.

"Good evening staff and students," Dumbledore said energetically, as he stood feebly to greet the hall. "Before we begin, I would like to announce, and am aware that I don't usually do this in the middle of term, three newly-filled teaching positions."

Hermione looked quizzically at Jessa, who merely smiled back.

"Firstly, Ms. Hermione Granger, who has graciously consented to fill the positions of both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, seeing as Professor Vector is retiring." Dumbledore paused here, so Hermione could stand, which she did unwillingly, after Harry and Jessa pushed her up. The Hall applauded, and Hermione saw Professor McGonagall smiling at her. "If you would like to take either of these courses," Dumbledore continued, "and do not currently have it scheduled into your timetable, please see your Head of House as soon as possible. Also you will need to contact Professor Granger some time before term ends, in order to receive your summer assignments."

Hermione sat back down, and waited for Dumbledore to announce the next teacher.

"I have recently met with someone, who has proposed a most ingenious idea, and I have decided to go along with it. I am aware that Divination is taught at this school by Firenze, who is probably the most suitable and competent teacher for the job. However, a young woman came to me today, and informed me that she is very skilled in Geomancy, a form of Divination that very few know anything of. I thought this would be a marvelous idea to have it taught here at Hogwarts. For any who are thoroughly interested, you will of course need to acquire a course recommendation from Firenze, and this needs to be handed in to your Head of House by Friday. This goes for all who would like to adjust their timetables for next year. Now, let me introduce the woman who has kindly offered to teach it, Miss Jessamine Sanchez." Jessa stood up, amid polite smattering of applause, and smiled sweetly.

Hermione smiled up at her in amazement.

"Now, the quicker you have the recommendations from Firenze," Dumbledore continued once more, "the quicker we can be sure that this course can continue. Professor Sanchez will get your summer assignments out as soon as possible. Thank you."

Jessa took her seat, along with Dumbledore, and was immediately bombarded with questions from Hermione, who was acting unusually excited.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she demanded.

"There really wasn't anytime…"

"Which books are you going to assign?"

"I know a really good one-"

"How're you going to teach it?"

"Umm, I was thinking…"

"I've never been really fond of Divination…"

"Oh."

"I wonder where your classes will be held. Harry," she leaned over, "is Trelawney still here?"

"Hermione-"

"Did you study Geomancy at Guadahara's?"

"Hermione-"

"What will your summer assignment be?"

"Hermione-"

"Oh, this is so exciting…"

"HERMIONE!!!"

"What?" she asked quite startled.

"Hermione," she said calmly. "Will you introduce me?" she said pointedly at Harry.

"Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Jessa, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Jessamine Sanchez."

"Nice to meet you," they said, reaching across the table to shake hands.

A/N: Next chapter should be up soon. Summer break has started, so you should be seeing some chapters more frequently. If you have any speculations about the plot or questions about the story, or would like me to email you when I update, you can drop me a line at . DO NOT put any revelations you may have about the story in the reviews, because I don't want it to spoil it for anyone else. I do love the reviews that I have been getting, however. They are all very sweet and encouraging. Thanks a bunch. You keep reviewing, and I'll keep dishing out the chapters. XOXO!!!


	13. Revelations

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Thirteen: Revelations

Written By: Auburn Lily

"Why aren't you two staying here?" Harry demanded, as dinner ended and the students dispersed.

"Oh, lets, Herm-" Jessa said.

"Umm, no, we're staying at The Leaky Cauldron," Hermione replied quickly, interrupting Jessa.

"Oh, but those expenses can get costly, I believe." Dumbledore answered, sneaking up behind Harry. "I insist you stay here. There are plenty of rooms."

"I really don't think that's necessary. Tom's expecting us, so we should probably be getting back now anyways," Hermione excused, summoning her cloak to her with a flick of her wand.

"Ms. Granger, you do understand that I wish for you and Miss Sanchez to remain here at Hogwarts, so that you can begin preparation for next term? It will be most convenient for myself, as well as the both of you."

"That's all very well, sir," Hermione replied, quite respectfully. "But all of our belongings are still back in our room, and I have some things at home I need to pack up. So, we need to return."

Dumbledore waved a dismissive hand at this, and replied with, "No need to worry about that. If you proceed to your quarters, you will find that somehow, quite mysteriously, all of your belongings are already there." His blue eyes twinkled mischievously at Hermione.

"But," Hermione replied lamely, searching fruitlessly for a way out of the situation. "But I-"

"But you nothing," Jessa interrupted, gripping Hermione's arm tightly, and steering her towards the Hall doors. "Come on Harry," she called back, treating him as if she'd known him for years. "Show us the way."

Harry, sharing a laugh with Professor Dumbledore, followed after Hermione, as she was dragged mercilessly from the room.

---

Harry led them to the teacher's wing, which was in the Eastern-most section of the castle, on the fourth floor.

"There are a lot of vacant rooms, so you can choose any that you like," he informed them, waving at the doors. They each had plaques over the doorframes. A few nearest them currently glowed green, with "vacancy" scrawled gracefully atop them. "The rooms adjust immediately to fit any environment you might like." He shoved his hands in his pockets, and bit his lips.

"OK, I'm going to go," Jessa announced, her hands on her hips, and her gum in her mouth. "G'night all," was heard as she strode to the nearest door and disappeared behind it.

"She seems nice" Harry remarked, after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, she is," Hermione replied.

"Well, I have classes all day tomorrow, I should probably be going."

"Um, Harry, before you leave, could we talk for a second?"

"Yea, of course Hermione, what is it?' Harry questioned, pulling his hands out of his pockets and looking genuinely concerned.

"Well," Hermione continued. 'Should I tell him?' she battled with herself. She knew she would have to tell someone eventually, other than Jessa, of course. And it was almost two months. Another month and she was going to be showing. "See, it's kind of complicated." She added sheepishly.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"Umm, why don't we take this inside a room?"

"Sure," he replied, and she led the way to a door with "vacancy" shining brightly above it.

Upon entering, they sat in the front common room of her quarters, around a bright warm fire, and in comfortable chintzes. Hermione continued.

"Well, I'm sort of attached to Draco, in more ways than one."

"Your divorce, obviously. What else? Does he owe you money?" Harry pressed eagerly.

"Where was he tonight, anyways?" Hermione asked, abruptly altering the subject.

"He usually eats in his quarters, alone. I don't know why," Harry replied. "But, back to the task at hand. Does he owe you money, or anything of that sort?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. You know Draco… if he owed me money, he would've paid me a while ago. It's nothing like that, I promise. It's a little bit more complicated."

Hermione bit her lip, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She fidgeted a bit, and Harry, not being able to contain his impatience any longer, sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hermione, whatever it is, you can tell me, you know. I won't think badly of you in anyway."

Hermione snorted. "Believe me," she said. "You will think badly of me after I tell you about this."

"Well, just tell me. I promise I won't be angry or upset or anything like that. I want to be able to help you, if it's something bad."

"OK, well, you promise you won't tell anyone, most of all Ron?"

Harry nodded.

"I need to hear you say it," Hermione begged.

"I promise I won't tell anyone." Harry assured her.

"Well, it's kind of complicated, see…"

"Hermione you've already said that. Get on with it."

"I'mpregantwithDraco'schildandnowIdon'tknowwhattodo." She mumbled, quickly and incoherently.

"What? Could you possibly repeat that one?"

Hermione sighed. There was no getting around it.

"I'm pregnant," Hermione repeated, much more audibly that time. "With Draco's child."

Harry sat in the chair across from her, silent and slack-jawed, staring at her for a good five minutes. Hermione thought it best to let the information sink in before she carried on with her request.

"And now, I don't know what to do. I feel hopeless. It happened in January."

"OK, first things first. You can't let anyone know about it. That would be disastrous, if someone found out, especially Draco. And his wife can't find out either. I don't know what she would do, but I really don't care to find out."

"But see, the thing is, she wanted me to have sex with him. She told me so, the day after, when me and Ginny met them all in Flouish N' Blotts. It was almost like she was hoping for something like this to happen."

"Hmmm, that's really weird," Harry thought aloud. "There most be something behind it all. I wonder if she was merely tired of Draco and wanted to shake him off onto someone else."

"I don't know," Hermione replied, deep in scheming thought as well. "It doesn't make sense, if you ask me. Maybe that is the reason, but they didn't seem like they were unhappy with one another. I don't know why she would do that."

"Hermione, you don't know Auset. I've met her before. I attended the wedding, and it all revolved around her. She threw a tantrum in the middle of it, screaming and crying about how it wasn't going her way. And then, the priest, he stopped it, right in the middle of the ceremony. She is very powerful. You'd better be careful. I don't know what's up her sleeve, but it doesn't sound good."

"I know, I know. I'm just having mixed feelings about carrying his child. I don't want him to find out about it, because then he'll demand I get rid of it, like last time. Remember?" Hermione vented, feeling an anchor drag down her heart.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'll think of something, don't worry."

"I don't Harry, not when you're with me." Hermione said, not being able to control what came out of her mouth at that moment. "How am I going to hide it?"

"Say it's mine," Harry shot out, quite irrationally. He hadn't even had to think on the matter. "You could say your baby is mine, and no one will know any the better."

"I suppose," Hermione considered. "It is the best we can come up with right now. But, that means we'll have to act like the babies yours."

"It won't be too hard. You're staying here after all. I suppose we could share a dormitory. That would be the best way."

"I suppose," she repeated, mulling it over in her mind. She wondered if this was just another of Harry's schemes to get her to be his. But, it really was the only plan they had. In a little over a months time, she would be showing, and there were of course concealment charms, but she didn't want to have to deal with those. She wondered what would happen when the baby was born, and it had Draco's silver eyes, or his blond hair. She didn't want to think about it. "That is the best plan we have,'' she repeated aloud. "I suppose it'll have to do."


	14. Naughty Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Fourteen: Naughty Dreams  
Written By: Auburn Lily

And so, Hermione slept in Harry dormitories from that day onward, so as to keep up appearances. Harry slept on the couch in the sitting room (much to Hermione's dismay), and Hermione slept in his bed, dreaming dreams that shouldn't be dreamt.

She didn't know, however, how much resolve was keeping Harry down in the commons, alone and cold, on the couch. All she knew was the resolve that was keeping her from running to find where Draco's dormitory was. It wouldn't be that hard, after all. She had soon found out, the day after she had gotten here in fact, that the professor's names were inscribed on the plaque above their door, on the plaque that had once blinked "vacancy" in her face.

Every night she tossed and turned, and every day the waistband of her casual pants grew tighter. Her morning sickness was becoming increasingly worse, and she knew that the time her baby resided in her stomach was growing shorter and shorter.

She had gone to see Madam Pomfrey about her pregnancy and, much to Hermione's delight, she had discovered that she was to have twins, a boy and a girl, to be born in late October sometime. And when Hermione couldn't sleep, she spent the wistful hours thinking of names that the girls might like, or names that Draco might like.

She knew the names of his other children weren't names he had crafted, but names that his dark witch wife had derived from her own culture. It was becoming unbearable to think about, Draco and Auset… together, the way Hermione had dreamed of being with him. She wondered why, if it had all been an accident, he had continued having children with her.

She hadn't laid eyes on his angel's body out of all of the time she had been at Hogwarts; she presumed after what Harry had said that he preferred the enclosed space that the dungeons offered him. She also assumed that he merely went to his classes in the morning, ate there, and then at the end of the day, walked back to his quarters.

She knew that he hadn't seen her either, but she knew he was aware of the fact that she was there. He sent her owls every once in a while, requesting her appearance at his door.

And it was even harder for Hermione, now that she was here at Hogwarts and in such close proximity to him, to stay away.

---

February meshed with March, which collided with April, and soon Hermione was doling out summer assignments to all of her prospective Arithmancy and Ancient Runes students.

She held a meeting for all of the students, so as not to have to keep repeating the same assignments over, and now she stood at the front of Professor Vector's classroom, which was soon to be hers, round as ever.

"Good evening, all," she announced, as the last of the students wandered in. "I have copied assignment sheets for all of you, no matter what year you are entering next, and they will be passed out at the end. However, I wish to warn you now, these courses are not easy, especially the advanced ones, which are taught to sixth and seventh years. I can see that I have a few of these. I am warning you now that if you are not able to handle an immense workload, than you should not be here. I do not accept late work; I do not fool around with either of my subjects. Your summer assignments should be a clear example of whether or not you will be able to handle my classes. I am a serious martyr when it comes to education, and I do not take my subjects lightly. I do not expect any of you sitting here now to either.

"Now, I suppose I should include with this meeting a run down of my courses, a basic introduction, if you will:

"The books I have assigned are very large, complete and complex. At the beginning of each week, or the first class that you have with me each week, I will expect extensive notes on the chapter we are currently covering, as well as study guides, and the questions at the end of each chapter to be completed. I will be handing out a syllabus of each course at the end, which lists the chapters we cover each week, along with your summer assignments, and book requirements. We move very quickly in all of these courses, because there is so much material, and you can expect to have a test, be it essay or short answer, at the end of each week. Along with these assignments, I will assign random essays and term papers to be written. These are not listed on your syllabus, and will be required to be at least two feet in length.

"Like I said before, if you are not willing to put as much effort into this class as, say Quidditch or anything else you are immensely interested in, you will not succeed. I can promise you that. Now, all those who are taking Arithmancy, raise your hands, and you will receive the requirements, and so forth. As you can see, all of the years are listed in one paper, so you need to simply find the year you are taking the class, and underneath that, you will find all of the assignments and books I am requiring."

Hermione finished handing out the Arithmancy papers, and proceeded to distribute the Ancient Runes' ones.

"I hope all of you enjoy your summer. Do study hard for your exams: they are not easy. Hopefully, I will see you next year, with all of your completed assignments to give me the first day of classes. Thank you for your time. You may go." And she dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

---

That night she lay in her bed again, restless and distraught with memories of her and Draco…

"_Here, love," he whispered, as cool night air drifted through gothic windows, disguised in billowing white ghosts. _

_She glanced at him, his pale skin molten gold in the amber candlelight and his silver eyes turned to mercury lined with angel's lashes. His warm breath washed over her, sending shivers up and down her spine, and she closed her eyes once more, as he traced the curves of her side with his thumb…_

'No, can't think of such enticing memories… bad Hermione, very bad…' she repeated over and over in her mind.

But she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop the images of times past, times in which she had been so incredibly happy, times in which she could barely contain her laughter because she had once been so content with her life.

Times in which his lips had grazed hers, times in which their skin had shared glistening perspiration, times in which her hands had so skillfully invoked and released passion in him that he had never before thought possible.

And for some dismaying reason, every night that Hermione didn't spend lying awake, she spent dreaming of the night in the pub, where she had met her match once more, where she had flown and cried and sang and laughed. Where she had finally felt what she had been dreaming for such a long time.

One night, however, she abandoned her resolve and dressed, cast a concealment charm on herself, and crept past Harry's sleeping form, and out the door.

A/N: It's not very long and I'm sorry. I recently hurt my ankle real bad in one of my dance classes, and I haven't been up and about as much. I also have a lot of summer work I need to get complete. It's overwhelming how much my teachers have given to me. I hope you like this chapter, and hopefully I'll have the next one up soon. Maybe I'll stay up tonight and write it. I don't know; it depends on how I'm feeling.

Thanks for reading and you could be nice and review me? Pretty please? They always make me happy.

And thanks also to Lady of Ankoku, for her wonderful beta-ing skills.


	15. Portrait Scrutiny and Cavorting of the M...

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Fifteen: Portrait Scrutiny and Cavorting of the Most Innocent Sort

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione stood at the door of Draco's room staring at his name scrawled in gold above the framework. The door itself was a rich mahogany with a doorknob shaped as an anchor gilded with gold workmanship.

"Typical," she muttered to herself. The fact that this door and this door alone was different from all of the other mediocre walnut doors that lined the corridor proved the fact that he resided in the quarters behind it.

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her unruly hair. It was beginning to drive her insane. She had to give it a trim soon or else it would develop a mind of its own and encase her entire head in curls.

She slid down against the wall next to the door and locked her arms around her knees, which were drawn up to her chest. Hermione glanced down the corridor although she knew that it was bound to be empty. She was merely searching fruitlessly for another soul to lead her away from her dreams.

Upon finding no one, she raised her eyes to the walls around her which were shrouded in portraits of what she could only assume were past Hogwarts professors. They were incredibly archaic with grime and mildew from the dank hallway crusted to their frames. Their names were inscribed on small plaques attached to the bottom. They all looked the same, but one in particular caught Hermione's gaze.

"Alavirra Adelaide Averille," the plaque read. The portraits frame held an indignant looking woman with a rather hooked nose, stern cheekbones, and steel gray hair which was piled in a bunch of frivolous curls atop of her head. Her eyes took possession of an acrid bite that swept over Hermione searchingly, scrutinizing her every move.

"Good evening," Alavirra spat, speaking rather slowly and deeply, utilizing a voice from deep inside her throat, "Or shall I say 'Good Morning?' according to that clock, just there," she contradicted, gesturing with her eyes towards a large grandfather clock that was just singing for twelve. "Might I ask a question?" she continued.

"I suppose," Hermione replied.

"If you don't mind my interrogating, why are you squatting like such?"

Hermione chose not to answer the question and after a few more moments of narrowed scrutiny from Alavirra, the professor disappeared and reappeared in the portrait adjacent to hers which was currently occupied by an old man, older than she even. Alavirra whispered in his ear, all the while keeping her eyes locked on Hermione, and when she had finished her secret-telling the old man's eyes had migrated to their resting point on Hermione as well, crescent moons of curiosity mingling alongside disdain.

Hermione scuffed loudly and averted her gaze to the other end of the hall. She saw more painted portraits eyes, green, brown, and black, boring into hers, growing larger and larger by the second until she felt as if she were surrounded by iris' until she lapsed into an unconscious bout of sleep, hummed to her dreams by the whispers of the portraits.

---

"Damn it," Draco muttered to himself. "Why didn't I bring up those papers before?"

He glanced at the pile of graded papers on the coffee table and then to the clock that hung above the fireplace. It read one thirty a.m. He sighed heavily. After standing up from his armchair, he stretched than grabbed his wand and headed towards the door.

He could, of course, wait until the next morning to grade the essays, but than he always preferred to start clean each Monday. Besides, his N.E.W.T. students were to be handing in their four-foot long essays first thing in the morning, so he really should get the papers done now.

He could also, of course, have simply 'accio'd' all of the essays to him, but he fancied a midnight stroll through the April's breath-infested corridors.

As soon as he stepped foot out of his quarters however, he discovered the reasons behind his compelling urges to take a walk.

There at his doorstep lay one Hermione Granger, sprawled quite contentedly on the cold floor, fast asleep. Her eyelids were moving rapidly back and forth, clearly indicating she was off somewhere in dream world.

Draco was utterly confused at this point. 'What is she doing here?' he asked himself, staring up and down the corridor for any hint or idea. All he saw were the dirty old portraits, which were staring at Hermione and himself with an odd sort of glare. 'Maybe she took up that job for Dumbledore that Potter told me about. That must be it.'

Secondly, he wondered what she was doing _here _right at his feet. 'Hmm, that's a tricky one. Maybe she was sleepwalking?' he guessed.

Thirdly, he contemplated what it was he was going to do with her. He knew very well that one should never wake a sleeping person, especially when it is clearly evident that they were dreaming, and he couldn't very well carry her all over the East Wing, what with the dead weight that she carried. He would have to keep her in his quarters until morning or until she woke up and ran away.

He bent over and lifted her into his arms, momentarily forgetting about his magical abilities, and carried her back over the threshold of his rooms like he had done so very long ago. He set her on one of the couches that sat in front of the fire and covered her in a knitted blanket that had hung over the back of it. She rolled towards the inside of the couch and mumbled incoherently something from her dream.

Draco sighed heavily again, depression plucking his hearts violin strings. He supposed he should get down to the dungeons and collect his papers.

She would be there when he got back, right?

---

Hermione's eyes slid open sleepily, but she dared not move a muscle until she found out where she was. The surface she was lying on was indeed comfortable, the blanket soft, and the fire warm against her cheek, but she didn't remember falling asleep there the night before. She licked her lips slowly and before she could do anything else, she heard an oh-so-familiar voice, a voice that had haunted her for years, whisper to himself.

She shut her eyes and tried to remember what it was that had happened last night. She had left Harry's dormitory and than for some reason she hadn't walked into Draco's room. She had simply fallen asleep on the floor, being haunted by ugly portraits, and here she was now.

"Hmmm," she muttered to herself not stopping quickly enough, and as soon as the murmur left her lips, she heard a falter in Draco's recitation of some unknown material.

"Hermione, are you awake?" he inquired setting aside the paper he was grading and removing his reading glasses.

She remained defeated and before any more time could be wasted, she sat up and blinked her eyes against the bright light the firelight and candles combined to make.

She looked around his room at first, wishing to avoid his gaze and, upon discovering that the décor was to her liking, finally brought her amber-brown eyes to meet his.

"Good morning," she stuttered, after a few moments of tense silence. She was really going to try and make amends with him now, for reasons unknown to him, of course.

"Good morning to you, as well," he replied leaning back into his armchair in all of his gorgeous glory and refined reverence. Hermione cursed him for being able to look so enticing.

"So…" Hermione started conversationally after a few more moments of silence, but was unable to continue, as she had nothing to say.

Draco stared at her amusedly, his happiness at seeing her not displaying itself on his face. He than waved his hand so that a tea tray with all of the condiments upon it was conjured from thin air. He let it drift down and settle itself next to the towering stack of graded essays.

"Mind telling me what it was you were doing outside my door last night?"

"Oh," Hermione laughed, trying to brush it aside. "That. Um, it really was nothing. I was just going for a midnight stroll, and got tired, and decided that the stone right outside your door looked comfortable enough, and I just fell asleep."

Draco arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Not the best story you've ever come up with and you know it. Where's all that witty cleverness hidden?"

"It really was nothing," Hermione repeated, quite at a loss for words as to explain her predicament.

"Hmm… well than why don't you tell me why you're here at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, I'm teaching Arithmancy and Ancient Runes next term, so Professor Dumbledore thought it necessary that I take up residence here. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Draco replied. "In fact, it's brilliant."

And Hermione contentedly stared at him as she drank in his entire being. Just sitting with him in his common room was enough to drive her insane. Her hands were sweaty, her lips numb, and her brain swimming in pure agony.

"Where are you staying?" he was asking.

"Oh, with Harry," she replied, remembering the reasoning behind staying with Harry. She felt a knife twist her heart around in a full rotation and now it was being mercilessly ripped apart. She shuddered visibly.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked immediately jumping to her aid. He increased the heat of the fire and brought her another blanket before sitting down on the couch within an arms length of her. Hermione was beginning to shake.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked concern drawn in the creases of his forehead. The use of that word, _love_, even though Hermione knew it was merely a term of endearment, was enough to make her wish to turn and trap his warm lips underneath her cold ones. Maybe than she would be able to work some feeling into them.

Hermione didn't answer, just leaned against the couch's back and raised her glassy eyes towards the ceiling, a lone tear trickling down her cheek.

"Oh, darling," he muttered lovingly, reaching out a finger to wipe the pearl away, and before he could do anything else, before any voice of reason was allowed to echo through Hermione's ears, her lips were on his, her hands were around his neck, and her tongue was tracing the outline of his mouth. She forced entrance and he responded whole-heartedly, crushing his body against hers and snaking his arms around her waist.

Draco's mouth tasted of honey and Hermione couldn't get past the rush that was beginning to fill her stomach. She didn't think it would ever go away; correction, she hoped it would never go away.

She was now on her back, Draco's mouth trailing persistent kisses down the curve of her neck. Her hands were slipping through the angel silk that was his hair and traveling over his robes, ripping at the material, urging it to come off.

At that moment, quite unluckily, the clock above the fireplace struck six and its doleful notes could be heard throughout the room. Draco and Hermione alike started suddenly, and the next thing they knew, they were both on the floor sporting lumps from the corners of the coffee table.

'Shit,' Hermione thought. 'Harry will be awake by now and wondering where I am.'

Than, without further ado she had fled from the room and down the corridor, not giving so much as a glance backwards.

A/N: Installment fifteen has come to a close. I hope all of you liked it. I gave you all some more action, which was purely intentional this time, because they weren't utterly and completely smashed. Damn that incessant clock. It always ruins everything! Anyways, down to business. I got so many reviews for the last chapter it was shocking. Every time I looked at the screen, I had a few more, and they were all incredibly sweet and encouraging. You guys are such sweethearts. I love you all so much!!

Next chapter: you'll just have to wait and see!!

Thanks, also, to my beta, Lady of Ankoku. She's amazing, and a godsend!!

Now, review review review!!!


	16. Lagoons

**LARGE NOTICE**: If you have already read this chapter, I would advise you to reread it again, as I changed it around, and added a lot more detail. I (and my beta) didn't like how the story was turning out, and I felt that my writing was going downhill, so it was necessary to rewrite this chapter, and then chapter 20. I am also revising all of the chapters prior to sixteen, and it would probably be advisable for you to go back and reread those if you have any time. It should be much more readable now.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Sixteen: Geomancy and Hospital Visits

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione's feet slapped the stone floors, and echoed off the walls as she ran away from Draco's rooms. She couldn't believe what she had just done. Anxious thoughts were racing across the notebook of her mind as she tore away from the one she loved, and towards the one who loved her. Portraits either exclaimed in loud protest at her speed, or were awakened by her harsh breathing as she whipped around bends in the corridors. Through the windows that faced east Hermione could just see pale pink and lavender streaked clouds snaking across light green and gold sky. In windows facing the west, however, a pale cornflower blue could be seen still marred by a few small white holes that poked through the blue canopy of early morning sky.

Halfway to Harry's rooms, however, she stopped in the middle of a drafty corridor. If she were to walk backwards, taking two lefts and a right, she'd be back in front of Draco's door that he had probably already shut. But if she walked forward, and took a right around a bend, and then followed the corridor all the way down to the end, she would find herself outside Harry's doors.

Hermione was utterly and completely torn. It felt so right to be with Draco, but then again it felt so wrong. She knew she had been over this countless times in her mind, but no matter how many times she searched for the answer, she came out of it none the better.

She slumped over to one of the windows that faced west, and looked outside. The glass windowpanes had been dispelled of by Filch, who was getting mightily old, mind you, and Hermione could feel the cool morning breeze filter through. The window itself didn't look to have been cleaned in ages, however, because grim and mildew was clinging to the cold, rough stone.

Hermione paid no heed, however, and stared out into the morning beauty. Pine and spruce trees brushed the sky, and the few stars still out were reflected in the smooth, glass-like surface of the lake. Cattails and long, itchy looking grass grew from the water's edge and Hermione could just make out the dock and gazebo that sat at the far edge of the lake. The tall mountains that surrounded the castle were speckled with green and brown trees, and Hagrid's hut was spitting smoke and soot into the fresh morning air.

'Hmm,' Hermione thought to herself. 'A nice walk sounds in order.'

A few moments later found Hermione darting down the stone steps of Hogwarts, and into the morning heavy with dew and the honeyed smell of honeysuckles. Vines of them crept up some of the castle walls, and clumps of them hung in the underbrush that clung to the stone. The dirt path that lead down the iron-wrought gates was pebbly and damp from last evenings rain, and the grass of the lawn was laced in cobwebs, which clung to diamond-sized droplets of dew.

Hermione walked across the cold wet grass towards the lake, savoring the peacefulness of the morning. Bird song echoed around the grounds, bouncing off the stonewalls of the castle, and Hermione could see a few deer just at the edge of the forest, their soft brown bodies standing out starkly against the dark, foreboding tones of the forest.

When Hermione reached the lake, she walked around it towards the dock on the other side. Small bugs flitted across the lake's glassy surface, and out in the center, Hermione could see a few of the Giant Squid's tentacles poking through the water. Frogs and other creatures were buried in the underbrush that clung to the embankment. A few cherry blossom trees were planted a few meters away, in front of a broken, wooden fence, in which morning glories thread through and over the wooden beams.

She trudged through the high grasses, clutching her brown jumper more tightly around herself. She could feel her pant legs soaking through from the wetness that the ground shed, but up ahead a few more steps was the dock and gazebo, being shaded from the morning sun by a huge willow. A half sunken boat was tied to the dock, rocking gently with the waves that lapped the support legs.

The gazebo was visited by many Hogwarts students during the school year, especially during spring and autumn. However, due to the early state of day, Hermione was sure enough that the gazebo would be devoid of any other soul.

She walked over the creaking, rotting floorboards, and opened the bitten screen door to reveal a few benches that circled the gazebo, and found a few owls nestled in between the rafters of the structure. A few droppings lay on the ground, accompanied by some tiny skeletons, and Hermione could see how the owls got in and out of the damp room. A few of the screens that surrounded the gazebo were ripped, providing holes wide enough for the owls to come and go as they pleased.

Hermione settled down on a bench closest to the lake water, and felt the cool breezes tickle her face and stir her hair. The owls hooted peacefully overhead, and she assumed they would be leaving soon to fly down the Great Hall for breakfast with their masters. Hermione could hear a flute's notes carried on the wind, and could hear the soft rustling of the forests' trees.

She sighed sadly, and fell asleep on the bench inside the gazebo, silent tear tracks causing hair to stick to her cheeks.

A few hours later found Hermione back inside the castle, showered, and inside Jessa's doorway, asking her to accompany her to St. Mungo's.

"You've never met any of the Weasley's before, and I want you to come visit Molly. She loves having visitors." Hermione explained to a lounging Jessa, who was drinking a martini and reading a book on Geomancy at intervals. She was also chewing a huge wad of gum (she had recently become very attached to Droobles) in her mouth very loudly and obnoxiously; when she blew a bubble, it was larger than her head.

"I don't think there's anything important that I was hoping to do," Jessa replied. "Sure, I'll go. Lemme just nip upstairs to get my jumper and purse."

"Take your time," Hermione answered nonchalantly from the doorframe.

Hermione had been in Jessa's personal rooms a few times before, but had never had time to fully observe the room.

Jessa was an avid Quidditch fan, and her favorite team was the Panama Pistols. Many black and gray (as those were the teams colors) posters were tacked to the walls, which were painted a bright orange. The baseboards were painted black. This did nothing for the color scheme of the room; it merely served to make the room appear to wish to emulate an out-of-date Halloween shop.

Many bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with Divination books (the bulk of which were centered around Geomancy) and some of the more empty shelves were overcrowded with rocks, globes, stacks of maps, small models of terrain, and other tools that may assist in the art form that was Geomancy. A few calendars also lined the walls, each months picture showing a palm being read, or tea leaves being sorted out, or furls of candle smoke being observed, and a few posters depicting the rules and procedures of Feng Shui were nestled in between zooming Quidditch players.

"I'm ready, Hermione," Jessa called, clambering down the steps wearing a neon green jumper, which clashed horridly with her tan skin. In her left hand swung a hot pink handbag. "Could we possibly run by Diagon Alley afterwards?"

"I don't mind. We're going to need to grab some dinner or something anyways," Hermione said, choosing not to comment on Jessa's choice of clothing.

"Good. I need to pick up a few books in Flourish 'N Blotts, and I need to run by the Divination store there. They do have one, right?" Jessa said as they walked out of the room and headed down to outside of the Hogwarts grounds to apparate.

"I'm sure they do. They have tons of stores there."

A few moments later they had apparated into dingy, musty-smelling, downtown London and Hermione could hear rat claws scraping on the cement ground as they landed. Muggle trash littered the ground and roads, and Hermione stepped out of the alley that they had apparated into, Jessa following her.

"The entrance is just up here a ways," Hermione said, wiping some rust that had somehow fallen into her hair, and brushing a spider from the front of her jacket.

They walked cautiously past run-down brick buildings with boarded up windows. A few houses stood erect among the rubbish, chimney's gushing smoke towards the sky, and steam spilled from gutters in the ground.

"Metro around here somewhere?" Jessa asked, eyeing one vent.

"Underground," Hermione corrected. "And yes. It runs under London. The hospital is just here," she added, stopping in front of the run-down department store. They didn't really have to be discreet about the whole thing, as most muggles were at work.

"What's this?" Jessa demanded, wrinkling her nose at a smell that was emanating from a nearby trashcan. It smelt of dirty socks and old pizza.

"This is the entrance to St. Mungo's," Hermione replied, and without further ado, turned to the mannequin. "We're here to see Molly Weasley," she told it plainly, and the next moment the mannequin was curling her index finger mechanically, beckoning them forward. "C'mon Jessa," Hermione ordered, pulling her through the glass panes.

After walking through an icy-sheet of water-like material, they found themselves in the welcoming and waiting room, which was stuffed full of people, patients and Healers alike. The patients were milling about, sporting things as little as bloody noses, and things as big as elephant tusks, and Healers were flitting in and out of the way of the patients, who were sitting on plastic blue chairs. The Healers, wearing their lime-green jumpsuits and inkbottle belts, were taking intense notes on brown clipboards, which clung to pieces of parchment that hung all the way down to the ink-splotched floor.

A long queue was forming at the Welcome Desk, where an Hispanic witch helped customers one-by-one. She looked irritated, gesturing to the huge direction sign overhead, probably wondering why it was people couldn't read it themselves. She had closely cropped, dark drown hair, and was waving a dull looking quill around dangerously in one hand.

"I think Mrs. Weasley might've been moved," Hermione said to Jessa. "So, I suppose we should join the line and wait."

Jessa didn't reply, just followed Hermione's lead. She was eyeing the Welcome Witch oddly.

The line moved rather quickly, and soon Hermione and Jessa were next, standing behind a distressed looking woman who was trying to tell an annoyed looking Welcome Witch what had happened with her two sons.

"â€and then Davies, this one right here," the mother was saying, pointing to the taller one who had red hair to match the fire that was spurting out of his mouth. "He attacked my other one," pointing to the smaller boy who was sporting horns nestled into his brown hair.

"Listen lady," the witch behind the desk was saying, waving the quill around again. This time it spurted ink all over the place, spraying a bunch of notes that the Welcome Witch had spread all over her desk. "I don't need a word-by-word run through of what happened, I just need you to tell me what it was that they ate, or what spell it was you were trying to cast, or whatever it was that _caused_ this to happen."

The woman looked positively frightened at being asked to interrogate her sons, but she turned to the younger one anyway.

"Arsen dear, tell mummy what it is that happened," she said in a sugary-sweet voice, turning around to her son, and bending over to question him.

However, Arsen at that point in time did not feel like answering any questions of the sort. Hermione doubted that he could speak at all. Arsen shot fire through his teeth, catching the ends of the woman's short-cropped hair on fire and the woman turned back to the receptionist, a helpless pout on her lips.

"Ma'am," they receptionist tried. "Where's your husband?"

"Work, at the Ministry," the mother replied absentmindedly, trying effortlessly to put out the fire with a simple watering spell.

"Go the fourth floor," the witch ordered, after a few more moments of annoyed observation on her part.

The woman tried her best to make the boys follow her, but than, after several more minutes of plants and other flammable objects being utterly destroyed, including an old portrait of Dilys Derwent, she merely cast a binding spell on them both and proceeded (with quite difficulty, mind you) to make it to the steps.

Hermione stared after the poor woman, not noticing Jessa's complete excitement at addressing the receptionist.

"Luchia Ynfante?" Jessa exclaimed. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Luchia replied coldly. "Hence the name tag."

"Don't you remember me?" Jessa demanded.

Luchia squinted her eyes for a moment, but then shook her head. "Nope, sorry, now what can I help you with?"

"We-" Hermione started, but was cut off by Jessa.

"Jessamine Sanchez," She said. "From Guadahara's? Do you remember now?"

"Jessamine?" Luchia said in disbelieving tones, dropping her professional manner. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, yes," Jessa said excitedly. "Hermione, this is Luchia Ynfante, from Guadahara's!"

"I've heard," Hermione replied icily, sparing a cutting glance at Luchia. "Nice to meet you. Now, Jess-"she tried again, but was interrupted.

"How long have you been working here?"

"A few months," Luchia replied unwaveringly. She glanced at the long queue forming behind Jessa and Hermione, and turned back to the two women. "What is it you need? I have to get to all those customers too, you know."

"Molly Weasley's room number," Hermione demanded, pushing past Jessa's bulk to get a better look at Luchia.

Luchia consulted her notes, and looked back up at Jessa and Hermione with an odd sort of gleam in her eyes. "Room number 313. She has her own personal room now. Third floor."

"Oh, thanks so much Luchia," Jessa exclaimed enthusiastically. "We'll have to get together some time soon to catch up."

"Yes, yes we will," Luchia replied smoothly, staring over the rim of her metallic-rimmed glasses, with her lips twisted in a grotesque manner accentuating the smoke lines etched in around her mouth.

Hermione stared at her for a moment, and then grabbed Jessa's thin wrist, dragging her away up the stairs.

"Aunt Hermione, Aunt Hermione!" Hermione heard as soon as she entered Molly's room. She caught a quick glimpse of the occupants, which included Sinead (who was holding Brina over a swollen tummy), Fred (who was wearing a horrible orange bomber jacket), George (who was wearing an equally horrid magenta jumper), Ginny (who was reading some sordid romance novel that she had probably stolen from the bookshelf in the tea room) and Charlie (who was sitting by Molly's bed with Allyn on his lap) before she was bowled over by three hurtling balls of red hair.

"Hello everyone," Hermione called as she hugged each child in turn. They all stared up at her with big green eyes under light colored eyelashes, smiling broadly. "What are you three smiling about?" she asked curiously.

Siobhan bit her freckled covered lip, and then beckoned for Hermione to lower her ear to her mouth.

"We have a present for you," she whispered.

"Really?" Hermione asked, pulling back with mock-incredulity sketched on her face.

"Yes," Aidan nodded enthusiastically. "Brendan has it."

Hermione looked at Brendan expectantly, and Brendan said, "It's outside in the garden."

"Garden?" Hermione asked confused. "There is no garden here."

"There is!" Brendan said forcefully. "I mean, yes there is." He added meekly. "It's for the sick people if they want to go outside."

"Ahh," Hermione replied, a small smile forming on her face.

"Hermione, don't listen to them," Sinead said from her armchair in the corner. "They just want you to take them for a walk out in the garden. Ron took them once before, but he's not here, and anyways they got into a lot of trouble when they went out there together. You know how bad they can be."

"Aunt Hermione, please?" Siobhan begged, pulling a fat lip and puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, Aunt Hermione?" Brendan begged.

"Maybe later, you three. I'm one tired blighter, that's for sure," Hermione replied, lowering herself into one of the fold-out metal chairs in the room. "Everyone, this is Jessamine Sanchez," Hermione added gesturing to Jessa, who was unfolding a metal chair for herself.

"Hello, everyone," Jessa called brightly before lowering herself down.

"Not British, eh?" Fred said.

"No," Jessa replied. "I came with Hermione from the States."

"Are you teaching at Hogwarts as well?" Sinead asked.

"Yea, actually I am. Albus agreed to introducing a subject called Geomancy at Hogwarts for next term. I'm quite excited about it."

"I've never heard of this before. I'm taking it's some form of Divination. Do they teach that here in Britain anywhere?" SInead asked, turning to Hermione.

"No, they don't," Hermione replied. "What else did they teach at the school that you attended Jessa?"

"Yes, it is a form of divination. Now lets see," Jessa said, twisting her lips up in thought. "Theory of the Dark Arts, Necromancy, Alchemy, Taxonomy, and Latin."

"I wish Hogwarts offered that many subjects," Hermione said wistfully.

"Yes, because all of us in here know that you would have taken all of those classes, and gotten more N.E.W.T.'s than you have now," George said, laughing.

"George, just because my academic transcript is more impressive than your's does not mean that you can crack jokes about it every time the opportunity arises." Hermione argued.

"So, Jessa, explain to us about geomancy," Charlie said, trying to prevent a fight from breaking out.

"Well, by a books definition, it refers to an ancient form of divination, like I said before, in which handfuls of soil or other materials are scattered on the ground or markings are made in the earth or sand to generate a range of dot configurations. A seer then reads these. One must, of course, have an avid understanding of geometry, which will be one of the first things I teach this fall, and divination. I'll also introduce _Feng Shui, _which is a Chinese-type of geomancy, and Astrological Geomancy, which is probably the most difficult of them all. I'll teach that at the end of the year."

While Jessa explained the mechanics of Geomancy, Hermione observed Mrs. Weasley's new room. It was a much more personal room than the other one had been, with no other patients sharing it. A huge bay window was set into the east wall, with airy, light yellow curtains gathered at the edges. Someone had opened the window, and Hermione could hear some music that sounded as though it was emitting from a Wizarding Wireless a few stories down. Hanging from above the window was a wind chime, which sang softly as a gently breeze filtered through the window, and on the windowsill sat an aloe gel plant and a Venus flytrap, which was currently feasting on a huge cockroach. Next to the window stood a bookshelf, which was stuffed with tons of steamy romance novels written by select witches and wizards. Next to the bookshelf was an overstuffed armchair, which held Sinead and Brina. In between the chair and bookshelf was a small table holding a lit gas lamp.

The rest of the time in St. Mungo's was spent amid meaningless chatter and jokes. Eventually Sinead packed up all her little ones, and they left, and Fred and George left shortly after that, muttering something about their joke shop. Finally, after Charlie bid them good night, Hermione gave Mrs. Weasley a kiss on the cheek, and her and Jessa took their leave.

"I like them a lot," Jeesa said as they departed through the mannequin's window.

"Good," Hermione replied. "Sinead invited me to their house over the summer, and I was hoping you could come and stay with me. I'm sure she won't mind; they all seemed to like you a lot."

"So, how many are in their family, exactly?" Jessa inquired.

"A lot," Hermione replied. "Lets see, Ron's married to Sinead, and they have the five children you saw today, and another one's on the way. Bill's married, the last that I heard, and he has a few kids himself. I've never met them before, though. Charlie's never settled down, he always has a different girlfriend. Percy married some girl from Hogwarts, and they have one child. Then there's Fred and George. George is married, but I don't think that he has any kids, and I don't know if Fred'll ever get married-"

"Okay Hermione, I get the picture," Jessa interrupted.

"Anyways, where do you have to go again?"

"Just to get a book in Diagon Alley," Jessa replied.

"Oh good, it's just around this bend here."

A/N: cowers in absolute fear of having things thrown at her You guys, I'm so sorry it's taken this long to get out. I've probably lost a lot of readers because I've been absent for so long, but hopefully I can get back onto a regular schedule soon. Since school has started, I'm limiting myself to weekends only on the computer, so you can expect a chapter (maybe two) a weekend. I've been so busy, with school work, and this is the first free weekend (minus a few assignments I have to do for my AP classes) that I've had in it seems like forever. And guess what???? We got our computer back, because it was in the shop for about a month, so now, instead of using my brother's twelve year old laptop, I can use the newly fixed one. Ahhh, absolute bliss....

Anyways, if any of you didn't read the notice at the top of the chapter, I guess I'll tell you again. I'm re-doing chapter 16, because I really didn't like how it came out. But, my beat couldn't revise it, so if you notice anything amiss about it, please put it in your reivew. I read it through a few times, but I'm still kinda nervous about it. I hope it was better than the last one. Chaps 17-19 will be the same, though.

Anyways, thanks to all my reviewers and keep reviewing!!! Love you guys.


	17. Houses by the Sea

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Seventeen: Houses by the Sea

Written By: Auburn Lily

The rest of that week passed by quite uneventfully, in which Hermione finished reading all of the books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that she owned. She found that she desperately needed more books to read on the subject matter, so that weekend she paid a visit to Diagon Alley.

Ginny, who rarely was able to see her friend anymore, accompanied Hermione on her shopping trip. They were currently making their way through the crowds of the main road.

"Ron was telling me Wednesday," Ginny was saying between sips of her coffee, "that mums condition's getting steadily worse."

"She seemed fine on Monday," Hermione replied, as she looked through the windows of a new quill store that she had never seen before.

"Of course they give her potions and things like that to side-step the more grotesque symptoms of what they think the problem may be. They don't even know what's the problem."

"That's really weird," Hermione commented. "You'd think they'd have come up with something by now. It almost seems to be like their being sabotaged."

"Mmhmm," Ginny mumbled meditatively. "I need to step in here," she said abruptly, referring to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"I should probably get some new ones, too; soon mine aren't going to fit anymore." Hermione agreed as they stepped into the cool atmosphere of the little shop.

Ginny went off to inspect the racks and shelves, while Hermione sought out Madam Malkin.

"What can I get for you, dear?"

"I need something that'll fit my body in October, when I'll be at the peak of my pregnancy."

"If you'll just follow me to this rack, here," Madam Malkin was saying, but Hermione wasn't listening any longer.

"Pregnant, are we?" an Egyptian goddess purred, as she gracefully made her way to Hermione. She was flanked by her four girls, the youngest one clutching her hand. Draco didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.

Hermione, noticeably shrinking under Auset's abrasive glare, mentally cursed herself for not casting another Concealment Charm on her body.

"Yeah," Hermione smiled feebly. "Just a bit."

"When are you due?" Auset asked, arching an intrigued eyebrow.

"Mid-October," Hermione replied, as she held out her arms for a bunch of robes that Madam Malkin had collected for her. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"If you need fitting dear, don't hesitate to seek me out. Dressing rooms are just there." She pointed out a corner in the back of the shop, solely dedicated to small mirrors and tiny rooms shrouded in thick, heavy velour curtains.

"So, that would make your time of conception," Auset thought aloud, "January? Oh my goodness, it couldn't possibly be the product of your little rendezvous with my husband?"

"No!" Hermione replied firmly, finally regaining her bold footing.

"Oh, someone else then?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"How interesting," Auset replied. "Well, we must be going. Come along girls," she added sharply, and without further ado, they left the shop, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

She hoped she had lied well enough.

"Hermione," Ginny said after they left Madam Malkin's. "Is there anything else you need to get? I told Ron we'd be at his house around six. It's five thirty now."

"I just need to get a few books at Flourish 'N Blotts for my classes."

"Kay. I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron. Meet me there when you're done."

"I shouldn't be long," Hermione replied, and she wasn't long. After she had finished at the bookstore, she found Ginny sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, exactly where she said she'd be, sipping a huge fire whiskey.

"I'm so tired," Hermione breathed, as she sat down heavily on one of the hard chairs. She could see Tom's hunched form dragging itself over to her.

"Sinead said that we're welcome to stay the night. It's only Saturday. You don't have to be back at Hogwarts until Monday morning, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied, rubbing her sore feet. "I'll have a tea," she said to Tom, who nodded politely and sauntered away back to his bar.

"Which books did you get?" Ginny asked interestedly.

"Just a few on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and I got one for Jessa for her Geomancy classes. I always tell her she doesn't have enough." Hermione replied, taking them out of her bag. One of the books was the one that Zenden, one of Draco's daughters, had asked for, Analytically Realistic Runes. The others were just normal textbooks, or translation journals. "I also got an Arithmancy pad," she added, reaching into her bag and pulling out an old square of plastic that resembled a muggle calculator. "I'll need to send out a notice to my older students; they'll need to get one."

"When I took Arithmancy, I never had one of these. Had to do it all by hand."

"I find it better that way myself. It just simplifies everything using this method," Hermione was saying, as Tom brought her tea.

"Yeh can take that' un wit' ya, 'ermione," he said pointing to the mug.

"Thanks Tom," Hermione replied, packing all of her books back into the Flourish 'N Blotts bag. "Let's go, Gin."

They stood up, clutching their parcels to their chests, and Hermione pointed her wand at her mug, whispering "Concretus." Ginny followed suit, hardening her fire whiskey so it did not splash all over them in the fireplace, and then took Hermione's hand. She threw the glittering dust into the roaring fire of the Leaky Cauldron, stepped inside the grate, and yelled "7 Wilgus Cemetery Place" clearly.

After a few moments of jostled journey, they were spat out of a cold fireplace. Hermione stood up, followed by Ginny, and dusted herself off, surveying her surroundings.

The room that they were standing in was currently empty, and quite drafty. It was very dark, as there were no candles lit, and the room appeared to be in the middle of the house, as there were no windows. The dark, hardwood floor was covered with a faded gold rug, which was fraying at the ends. The candle brackets were devoid of candles, and the occupants of a few portraits that graced the walls were snoozing soundly, their chests rising and falling gently with intake of breath. The wallpaper was a crimson-burgundy, with what seemed to be patterns of dark acorns and pinecones grouped together. The furniture consisted of a few hutches, incredibly antique, which contained objects of obvious concern, and a few uncomfortable-looking sofas were scattered sporadically about the room. Atop dark rosewood tables sat cold oil lamps, and some padlocked trunks stood in a few corners.

"Ron and Sinead and their children live here?" Hermione asked, flicking disbelieving eyes to Ginny.

"They're never in this room. This is the only fireplace in the house attached to the floo network." Ginny explained. "Come on, Sinead'll have coffee waiting for us in the sitting room."

So, they commenced through an archaic-looking door, and Hermione found herself in a dimly lit corridor where a few more portraits hung. None of them appeared to be of Weasley ancestry.

Ginny walked towards another door, and Hermione came to discover that not all the house was as dank and cobwebby as the floo receiving room had been.

This room was obviously the kitchen, with light oak cabinets and counters lining the walls, and a huge oak table in the middle surrounded by chairs. The table was laden with spices, and a huge cutting board covered in vegetables.

"The sitting room's through this door," Ginny announced, pointing to another door at the other side of the kitchen, and they walked through it, revealing a cozy little room full of cats and people.

"Hello everyone," Ginny called, setting her bags near the door. Hermione followed suit, removing her jumper and shoes as well.

This room was easily the most comfortable-looking room that Hermione had seen of the house so far. The wallpaper was a pale rosy hue, and the furniture was all light and comfortable looking. Sinead sat in one of the couches near a coffee table, which was laden with a petite tea set, with baby Brina in her arms, smiling graciously at them as they came in. Her pregnancy was more visible than ever, as she was due in July.

Ron sat at a chess set in the corner with his daughter Allyn, obviously teaching her how to play. Fred and his girlfriend Georgia sat across from Sinead, sipping cups of tea, and Mr. Weasley was teaching the twins Siobhan and Aidan how to play Gobstones. Incessant argument could be heard, as the twins quarreled over whose stones were whose. Hermione made a mental note not to go into that particular corner of the room any time soon.

"Your house is simply gorgeous, Sinead," Hermione said as she sat down next to her on the couch.

"Let me see my little niece," Ginny said, holding out her arms for Brina.

"Thank you," Sinead replied, handing Brina over to Ginny, and filling two more precious porcelain teacups with boiling tea. "The house elf Cyri keeps it quite clean."

"Don't even start Hermione," Ron called from a corner, and Sinead cast a confused glance at the both of them.

"I led S.P.E.W. back in our school days," Hermione replied sheepishly.

"_Spew_?"

"Not _spew_, S.P.E.W.!" Hermione replied anxiously.

"What does it stand for?" Sinead asked curiously.

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"How interesting. Do you keep up with it?"

"Not any more. I don't really have the time to do it. Actually, I don't know when I found the time to do it then," Hermione replied thoughtfully.

"It was an incredibly obnoxious group," Ron said from the corner.

Hermione snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."

"What're you trying to say?"

"Simple: that you're obnoxious."

"Thanks Hermione," Ron replied, turning back to the game he was playing with Allyn.

"So, anyways, as I was saying, it was basically a way to win elves more rights in the wizarding world. It didn't win many supporters, though. I think the people who did sign up only did so I would stop with the campaign. It really was a rather good idea, I think, and it would've changed the world we live in today."

"Hermione," Fred said exasperatedly from the other side of Georgia. "Come on, can't we get through one party without you lecturing others on righteous crap?"

"It is not righteous crap, Fred," Hermione replied hotly. "It's incredibly important that we try and win rights for others."

"Hermione, would you like to see outside?" Sinead asked quickly, trying to avoid an argument.

"Sure," Hermione replied, taking the bait graciously. She did, however, send Fred and Ron angry, typical, Hermione-like glares on the way out the door.

"So, Hermione," Sinead said conversationally as they stepped out the kitchen door. "Have you thought about names for the babies yet?"

"No, not really," Hermione replied, taking in the scenery.

The house was apparently located on the coast somewhere, because a little ways off was a cliff. Hermione didn't know how steep it was, but she could see the Cimmerian-looking water, with iced waves and gray and black gulls flocking overhead. Hermione didn't know when, but the gorgeous day had turned cloudy and overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance. She could smell rain in the air, and her hair was already beginning to frizz at the ends from the intense humidity.

An old-looking wooden fence, that didn't seem to be able to do its job as well as some would've liked, guarded the cliff. There was a little gate in it, kept shut with a rusted lock, which seemed to lead down the cliff by way of stairs built into the cliffs wall. The yard was overgrown, much to Hermione's discontent, as she preferred everything in order, but she still had to admit that wherever it was that the house was located in was indeed charming.

"It's East Sussex, this is," Sinead said, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. Sinead led them over to sit at a bench that was latched down to the patio floor. "The house looks like a one-story rambler to Muggles, because the neighborhood we live in is a muggle one. You can obviously tell it's anything but that."

And Hermione looked up at the house at that, seeing that it was an old three-story, with redbrick and gray shutters. The roof was slanting, giving idea that there was an attic, and ivy had engulfed most of the back. Hermione could see at least three more chimney's sticking out sporadically from the gray roof.

"It's certainly charming," Hermione thought aloud, looking over the lawn once more. What appeared to be a gnome garden could be seen a little ways of.

"Thanks," Sinead replied.

"Have you thought of any names for your soon coming arrival?" Hermione asked.

"Well, its another boy," Sinead replied. "I do have a few in mind. I was thinking of letting Ron name this one, though. I named the last three."

"Could you give me any ideas for mine?"

"Sure," Sinead replied. "What is it you have, a boy and a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Let's see" Sinead pondered, tapping her lip with one of her fingers. "I don't like pairing twins names together. I think that's too cliché. Were you thinking of naming the babies after Harry, or his parents?"

"Actually, I was," Hermione replied. But Sinead didn't know the real reason why she wished to do this.

The fact of the matter was that Hermione did indeed love Harry, much the same as she loved Ron and Ginny, and as she was beginning to love Sinead and her children.

And Harry was probably the most important thing in her life at the moment; he was indeed protecting her from Draco's assumed wrath. And therefore, she thought that she should at least honor Harry by using his name, or his parent's names, for her children.

"Well, his mothers name was Lily, was it not? And his fathers name was James. I've always been fond of flower names, you know?"

"Eh," Hermione grunted. "As long as it isn't anything too frivolous, like Pansy or something of the sort," she replied, shuddering at her childhood rival.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. But I do like Dahlia and Iris."

"Iris sounds pretty," Hermione said. "But I don't know. I'd have to think about it much more carefully. What about boys names?"

"I dunno," Sinead replied. "You should ask Harry on that one."

But Hermione was thinking that the day she asked Harry to name one of Draco's children was the day she might as well cash it all in, and become a diviner or something of the sort.

"Well, thanks Sinead," Hermione said.

"Sure, sure anytime," she replied, waving a dismissive hand. More thunder could be heard rumbling overhead as she said this. "We should probably be going in; the gales down here can get pretty intense sometimes, and it looks like it's going to start any minute. I have to get the food on anyways."

"Who else is coming?" Hermione asked as they stood up and began walking back towards the kitchen door.

"Harry, but not till tomorrow morning, George and his wife and kids, Bill and some witch from Gringotts that he married a few years ago. They have I think three kids. Ron told me that you've never met his wife before. Percy and Penelope are coming for tea later on with their child, and Charlie is bringing a mystery girl, like he always does."

"Sounds like a big bunch o' people," Hermione replied, as they entered the house once more, leaving the festering storm out in the courtyard.

"Yea, so I've lots to cook. If you just let me put this food on, I'll give you a quick tour of the rest of the house."

"Do you need help with anything?"

No," Sinead replied, as she merely flicked her wand and everything around them set to work. The cutting board sliced up vegetables, the ladle in the soup pot began spinning in earnest, the spices floated around and tilted cayenne and pepper and ginger on something whenever they saw fit, the bread was being kneaded by invisible hands. "I don't think so."

"Okay," Hermione replied, and soon she was following Sinead out of the kitchen and back into the dark hallway Hermione had previously been in. It was longer than she had thought, and at the end an old looking staircase spiraled upward to the next landing.

"Our house was once owned by the dark wizard Grindelwald back in 1945, so that's why it's so dark. I inherited it from some distant relation (don't ask), and I couldn't pass up an offer for a free house, you know? I know it seems weird that he would station it right in the middle of some random muggle neighborhood, but believe me, he had his reasons for living here."

"Oh my goodness, how incredibly amazing," Hermione exclaimed. "You must have so many different things in this house."

"Yes, well, a lot of the things we think are here are in locked trunks, and I haven't gotten around to opening them up. Actually, I don't want to open them up. A few I think may contain boggarts. Anyways, I know you've seen this room," she said peeking her head in to the room Hermione and Ginny had flooed to earlier. Hermione heard a few angry yells, and when Sinead looked back at her she grimaced. "They can get really rowdy, and really rude sometimes."

They proceeded to the next room, which was a small dining room. "This is way too small for our family to eat in here, so we eat in another one across from the kitchen, but we think this may've been we're Grindelwald spent most of his time."

They proceeded through the hallway, poking their heads through doorframes; many of the rooms were small and dark.

"We haven't gotten the time to refurbish the entire house, what with all of our kids, so we just renovated the rooms that we use."

"Understandable," Hermione replied. The next room that was bright, and actually looked clean, was a small library.

"This is one of the two libraries in the house," Sinead was saying. "This one is much smaller than the other one, which is upstairs and takes up two of the levels. We haven't done anything with that one, yet, so it's still really dank and dark up there."

The next story was the most renovated of the floors.

"This is the floor we sleep on. The kids don't like the third floor, because it seems that there're a bunch of ghouls in the attic, and they're constantly fighting with each other, and making loads of noise. Plus, the ghosts up on the third floor never come done here. The twins and Brendan love the ghosts, but Allyn doesn't like them at all, and I don't think Brina is going to either.

"The third floor is for guests," Sinead was saying as they walked up another spiral staircase that creaked as pressure was placed on it. "Here, I'll show you the room you'll stay in. We have enough rooms for every family to have one. Yours'll be just here," Sinead pointed out a door down the hall way a bit. "Did Ginny tell you that you all could stay before you left?"

"No," Hermione replied.

"So you don't have any spare clothes? That's all right, the room has some. So now you know where it is; the bathroom is right about here, and there's two more down the hallway."

"Thanks, Sinead," Hermione replied.

"Well, I should go down and finish dinner," Sinead said, turning to leave. "The doors're all locked, but a simple '_alohomora_' should do. You can look around, if you like. Ron's told me about your fascination with libraries and such. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

"Are you sure you don't need any help with dinner?" Hermione asked, but Sinead had already descended the stairs, and disappeared from view.

Hermione turned her eyes back down the dark hall, which was lit by dripping candles. More portraits lined the walls, the occupants snoring loudly or wheezing softly. She walked down to the door that Sinead said was her room, and opened it up, to reveal more darkness, lit by an oil lamp, which sat on another rosewood table near the door. The room smelt of smoke and roses, and Hermione saw that her room had a window at the far end, curtained by thick, dark curtains.

The bed was a large four-poster, with the hangings shut, and at the end sat another padlocked trunk. A large armoire was shoved against one wall, topped with a vase of dried flowers. A desk was situated next to it, topped with another oil lamp, unlit, next to a stack of books. Next to the desk was a door.

Hermione sighed and after further perusal of the room, she walked back into the hall. She could hear the storm raging overhead, not sounding as if it were going to let up any time soon. The banging in the attic was reaching an incessant roar, and it sounded like someone, or something, was moaning up there, so before Hermione knew what it was she was doing, she was searching for a door or a set of stairs to get up into the attic.

She opened a few doors, one leading to a balcony of the library Sinead had told her of, and another revealing a room with a bunch of instruments in it. But finally, after ten more minutes of fruitless searching, she found a staircase that led up into darkness.

She ascended the stairwell cautiously, avoiding the cobwebs that seemed wont to cling to her curly head. The steps were creaking so much; Hermione feared that it might disturb the houses occupants so far below her.

The trip was fairly short, and after a whispered, _alohomora_, she gained entrance on the attic that was causing more racket than the storm was.

Immediately, something was hurled her way. She saw it smash to pieces next to the shut door, although the light in the room was incredibly dim. She whispered to her wand "lumos", and held it up before her, revealing the dirtiest attic she had ever been in, including one of the ones at Hogwarts.

Boxes upon boxes were piled everywhere. Hermione cringed to know what might be hidden in them. More spiders' webs clung to the rafters that threatened to hit Hermione's head, and just beyond the boxes she could make a bunch of furniture, covered with ghastly sheets.

She heard and felt something smash above her head.

Now, she knew that ghouls were fond of throwing things at people; and she did know, also, that they hated light. So, she whispered another spell, and the entire room was bathed in white, dazzling light, revealing six or seven ghouls in a corner, blinking stupidly at one another. Hermione then levitated a few boxes and placed them in front of the ghouls, uttering a simple binding spell so they couldn't be taken apart, and voila: the ghouls were trapped.

Hermione extinguished the lights, and turned to leave, but before she could, a cold voice's breath whispered against her neck. She started violently, and swung her arm around to hit the offending person, only finding that her arm swished through an icy sheet of nothingness.

"Now, why would you want to do that?" the familiar voice asked. "They were beginning to accept my staying up here with them."

Hermione turned, and saw someone's face she hadn't seen in forever it felt like.

Narcissa Malfoy.

The woman's face was shrouded in black contours of shadow. What the tip of Hermione's wand lit up was silver, and translucent. Her hair, once silvery-blonde, was a darker charcoal now and hung in her eyes. And Hermione could still see in Narcissa the face that she dared not think of at the moment; she could see the aristocratic chin, the high cheekbones, and the strong, proud forehead. She felt something stir inside of her; something she couldn't repress, and she felt the horrible longing to be wrapped in his arms again, to be taken by him again.

"Narcissa?" Hermione cried, snuffing down her earlier feelings of utter weakness and despair. "Oh my goodness. What on earth happened? I was never informed of your death."

"I know, I know," she replied wistfully. "My son always was the stubborn one. If you didn't wish to be contacted, than he wasn't going to contact you, no matter what it was that happened. "

Hermione snorted angrily, but did not want to ask Narcissa how it was she died.

"It was a few years ago," Narcissa said, answering Hermione's unasked question. "Draco doesn't even know the real reason for my death, actually. She lied to him."

"Who?"

"That wife of his, I never did like her," Narcissa continued, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "But that day, Draco had taken all of the girls out riding; oh how they did love to ride. He'd taken all of the girls out but Nabiyre, the youngest, and oh how she was the most precious. Auset was supposed to be out that day, shopping or whatever it was that she was doing. I dared not ask. But anyway, I was up in one of the baby's chambers of the mansion, already having put Nabiyre down for her nap, when she came in. I didn't hear her come in at all, for I was standing out in the balcony, and the next thing I knew, I heard her voice, and then that was it. I can presume that somehow she covered up the use of Avada Kedavra through some odd means that only she could achieve. I dare say she was a dark witch, now that I've had time to let the thoughts fester in my brain."

Hermione let the revelation roll over in her mind; she had an idea that Auset wasn't the purest of Egyptian witches that she ever met, but she didn't think that she would've killed Narcissa. She wondered what on earth it was that had possessed her; she wondered what her cause was for it.

"And Draco didn't do anything about it? He just gave you up for died at unnatural causes?"

"Oh no, child. Of course not. He did everything in his power to find something that might lead him closer to finding out what it was that killed me. I think he had an inkling of Auset, but she was supposed to be out shopping all day, you know. And I never did get to tell him about it, because Purgatory landed me here."

"Well, now that it has been found out, maybe I should be the one to put it out to public." Hermione replied smugly.

"Oh no, please don't Hermione," Narcissa begged, waving her arms in front of her, her silver eyes widening. "I can't bear the thought of that memory being open for him. Draco suffered so much at my death you've no idea. I was the only one left in the world who he thought loved him. You can't possibly let him know that you are aware of my death, or anything at all related to it. It would eat him up inside, once again, like it did so long ago."

"Oh, but don't you want your death revenged? I think it would be so much more important for her to be locked away somewhere, forever."

"No, then the children would be left without a mother, and I can't bear having to put another child, let alone four, through such a horrendous situation once again. I did it, quite against my own will mind you, too many times to Draco. And I can't bear having to do that to those children. I love them too much."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the ghost in front of her, the woman who would be forever trapped in this attic, with only the ghouls to occupy her. And they would eventually die.

"Please don't tell anyone, Hermione, please don't," the woman pleaded.

"Very well," Hermione replied slowly. She still couldn't understand Narcissa, the woman who was supposed to be the coldest, darkest wife of a Death Eater. "Why are you here, in the Weasley's attic?"

"Oh," she said, quickly abandoning her earlier distress. "Frankly, I didn't know from the start. I arrived at Purgatory, which is probably the biggest fortress, the place most devoid of feeling's that you may ever be, and I was questioned by this receptionist, poor dear, she's been locked in that horrible place for all of eternity, and will be for all eternity. I talked to her about some things; she was such a sweet heart. But anyway, as I was saying, the receptionist told me that I could either stay here in Purgatory, where I would fill out countless numbers of forms, so I could acquire an appointment to have my soul analyzed, or I could simply return to Earth as a ghost. She said I could never return to Purgatory, or ascend to Heaven or descend to Hell, but she told me that she only asks this question to a person who was still needed on Earth. So, I figured that since I was still needed here, I should go back, and this is exactly where they landed me. I didn't know why they sent me here; the Weasley's never come up here, bless their hearts, but now I do know why it is they sent me here."

Hermione, who had been leaning against the door to go back downstairs, stared at Narcissa in confusion.

"Why have you been?"

"To warn you, dear. I know that you are pregnant; it is quite obvious, what with your physical condition. But I also know that you've been lying to everyone. I know your baby's are Draco's. And I most warn you, dear," She repeated, "that you and your children are in grave danger. I don't know from what, or who, or when it will happen. I just need to warn you that if you don't keep an extra eye out for odd occurrences, then you'll fall, and I don't think you'll be able to get back up. I don't know what it is that you need to watch for, but I can feel it, this omnipotent force that is hovering over top you. So much like that storm that is hovering over top this very house."

Hermione stared at her, stock still, with shock, confusion, and worry all boiling in her irises. "What? How can you know this?" Hermione loved Narcissa with all of her heart, and she felt that given any circumstance, she would trust Narcissa with her life. But this was an incredibly odd circumstance, and she was having trouble believing her own ears.

"I don't know how it is that I know what I know, but I can feel it, and it's so important, you've no idea. You have to watch yourself."

At that moment, Hermione heard someone's voice traveling up the third floor staircase, yelling for her to come down. It was dinner.

"Narcissa, I must go, it's dinner. Why don't you come down?"

"Oh, no dear, I couldn't possibly. Now that I've done what I must, I'm free to leave this place, and do what it is I see fit. Besides, the Weasley's would be beyond shock if they knew that I had been up here all this time, without their knowledge."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked curiously, feeling odd at leaving someone, even if they were a ghost. She felt odd at leaving the person who was so closely attached to Draco, the one who didn't seem to ever want to leave her thoughts.

But, the person who had been yelling before began again, and Hermione knew she must go, lest they find her here.

"I'm positively sure," Narcissa replied, with a forlorn smile. She pressed her cold lips to Hermione's forehead, and although the kiss should've sent shivers through Hermione's body, it sent waves of warmth to the ends of her fingers and toes. "And Hermione, Draco does love you, more than anything you could ever imagine. I can feel it." And with those last words, Narcissa floated away, going through boxes as she went, and before Hermione had known it, she had disappeared through the wall of the house.

Hermione clambered back down the stairs, and yelled at however it was at the bottom of the steps that she'd be down in a bit.

She needed time to contemplate what it was she had just found out from Narcissa.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I sent it off to my beta Tuesday, but she never sent it back. Please forgive her, it was her birthday this week, and she was incredibly busy. I desperately needed to get the chapter out before this weekend. So, this chapter stands unrevised, except by me. I ran through it a few times, and hopefully caught everything that was wrong. I hope you enjoyed it; it was unusually long for my standards.

I'm going away again this weekend, so the earliest I'll be able to get a chapter out is Tuesday (Warning people: that probably won't happen, so don't count on it). Have a nice weekend.

Happy Birthday, Serenity. This chapter was for you!!

Please review, all of you. They encourage me to write more. XOXO—Auburn Lily


	18. A Romantic Interlude

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Eighteen: A Romantic Interlude

Written By: Auburn Lily

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in Harry's bedroom, tugging restlessly at the curls that were woven into knots in her hair. The window to the room was wide open, letting enticingly warm breezes filter through, and she could hear the birds out on the grounds singing away merrily to the students who were done with their exams. They had been let loose on the grounds to do whatever it was they pleased for the train back to King's Cross was to be leaving in just a few days.

It was now late June, and the school was soon going to be empty. Hermione could hear the students lilting voices mingling peacefully with the bird's incessant chatter, talking nothing but of what it was they wished to do over the summer break.

She had already been to see Dumbledore, accompanied by Jessa, concerning her summer holidays. He'd said they needed to be back at Hogwarts for the next term on or before August 27, so they (Harry, Hermione and Jessa) were getting ready to depart for a nearly two-month long stay at number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place.

Currently, Hermione was arguing ferociously with her appearance in the mirror. Bags hung dolefully under her eyes, blotchy hints of a fever blushed her cheeks, and her lips were swollen.

Whoever said women were the most beautiful during pregnancy had clearly never been pregnant before.

Her hair, however, was the largest problem. Wiry curls stuck out at odd angles, a few wispy pieces hung limply in her eyes, and the color was beginning to drive her insane. The hair at her roots was a shade darker than all the other strands and Hermione couldn't discern why this was so.

"What color should I change it?" she absentmindedly asked the mirror.

"Don't change it, dear," the mirror replied in a bored, inattentive voice. "It looks fine the way it is."

"Thanks," Hermione muttered sarcastically, and left the room, heading to the kitchens for an early dinner.

The halls were empty, due to the gorgeous weather and the absence of timed exams, so after she had acquired a sandwich and a cup of tea, which merely served to dampen her appearance even more, she roamed the first floor of Hogwarts listening for any suspicious noises she may hear.

Coincidentally, after a few moments of silence, she did.

"Granger," yelled an icy voice, the only voice that would call her by that, and Hermione turned to meet the steely demeanor that she knew would accompany him.

And meet it she did. He was striding towards her, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, his silver eyes glinting lividly, and his platinum hair falling dangerously in his face. He stopped a few feet from her, and Hermione knew something bad had happened.

For Draco rarely exposed emotion as strong as this.

"Malfoy," she replied childishly, folding her arms in between her growing stomach and breasts. With a sick plummet of dread that made its way to her toes and then back up to her fingers, she realized that she had forgotten, once again, to cast the concealment charm on her body.

"What is that?" he demanded, unclenching a fist to point an index finger at her stomach.

Hermione knew enough about her former husband to know that he would never do anything to hurt her. She believed Narcissa and Harry. She didn't doubt that he loved her.

She just didn't act on this.

"Babies," she replied confidently, for there was truth in this statement. The trouble would start when she needed to lie.

"Whose are they?" he inquired through his teeth.

She wondered at his jealousy.

"Ha-Harry's," she lied, faltering as a look of saddened rage flitted across his eyes.

"Potter's," he spat, composing himself once more, and folding his arms across his chest as well. "Well, at least they belong to someone worthwhile."

Hermione couldn't understand the mechanics of Draco. One moment he was ravaging her in the rose courtyard, the next he was taking light of his more hospitable side and now he was covering up his jealousy and rage by approving of the father!

She had little time to contemplate these contradictions of his character, however, as he had gently taken hold of her arm, and was leading her down the corridor they were currently in.

"Draco," Hermione said. "Where are you taking me?"

"I want to play for you," he tacitly answered.

"Play what?" Hermione asked.

"A piano, of course."

"But" Hermione tapped her lip meditatively. "I didn't think there were any piano's in the castle."

"I know of one," he replied confidently.

But it seemed he didn't, for he lead her through tapestries and up staircases and down secret passages. At one point he even let go of her arm so he could push aside a statue and bend low through a small door. They had to crawl for a time, and Hermione, being the stubborn, overtly pig-headed woman that she was, fancied for a minute asking him to take her back.

Then she remembered how strongly it was she wished to be with him when they were parted.

She did love him, after all.

After another ten minutes of traipsing throughout the castle, Hermione found herself outside of a pair of huge, gothic-looking double doors. Draco released her arm once more, which felt annoyingly desolate without his touch, and cast her a genuine smile. Hermione didn't know whether to smile back or not, but she didn't really have time to contemplate this as he was already extending his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, beckoning her to enter the chambers within.

She merely stared at him blankly for a few moments, until he sighed in exasperation and pushed open one of the doors himself.

With a deafening, aching creak, the entrance way was breached, and Hermione was staring at a huge room, with high ceilings supported with arching beams laced in cobwebs.

"It's one of the ballrooms the founders and their successors used for banquets and the like. You can obviously tell it hasn't been used in a good few years," Draco explained as he took her arm once more and lead her through the doors, which upon further inspection had intricate carvings of landscapes and castles wrought upon them. "This one's the only room with the instruments still intact," he added, gesturing to one corner of the room, where an elegant grand piano stood proudly amongst harps, violins, violas, cellos and basses. "This one's Godric's," he said bitterly.

Hermione laughed, and she heard it carry long after her mouth had closed. It floated up to the arching rafters, and swam through the thick stale air that hung in the ballroom.

"It's enchanted, so any music'll carry after it's done playing," Draco was saying as he walked across the broad floor. He sat on the piano's bench, and lifted the lid. Hermione noticed that the piano was the only instrument not caked in dust.

"Do you come here often?" Hermione inquired from the entrance to the room.

"Yeah, I've been coming here since our school days. I found it in our second year, and you know, I'm an avid pianist, so I came here a lot." He somehow managed to crack his knuckles in an elegant fashion, and without further ado, struck up a tune that Hermione instantly recognized.

As his fingers delicately picked apart the keys to "Moonlight Sonata," Hermione fought flooding memories by tearing her eyes from Draco's lithe form and directing them to the task of further examination of the room.

The walls were papered in fading gold, and the floor was dark wood, protected by a tattered oriental rug, which was decorated with a beautiful design of burgundy and deeper ochre. Huge windows were set into one wall; however, the fading dusk light was snuffed out by thick, heavy, blood red colored drapes. A few pinpoints of amber light poked through the curtains, but other than that the only light that made the rooms furniture discernible were the few stubs of waxy candles that had lit of their own accord upon Draco and Hermione's entrance. Chandelier's that were probably once coveted by all hung on rusted chains. Spider webs clung to the dangling diamonds, and were nestled in the empty candle brackets. Dead rose petals littered the floor in the corners, contributing to the rose-infused, musty scent that had taken to cling to Hermione's curls and a few archaic tables lined one wall, the legs broken, and the tops collapsed to the ground. Empty fire grates gathered dust and ash, and black paw prints receded away from one grate in particular.

Hermione turned back to Draco, who had finished his song a while ago and was watching her with glittering eyes. Hermione smiled weakly, and began walking towards him. Seeing her coming, he stood up and walked towards her as well.

"That was nice," Hermione said as they both came to a halt in the middle of the room.

"Thank you," Draco replied. "But something else'll be nicer." He lifted his wand and pointed it at the instruments, which immediately plucked themselves up, and dusted themselves off. With a few flicks of his wand, the orchestra began playing a beautiful rendition of a piece of music Hermione couldn't recognize.

"May I?" Draco asked, holding out an arm to request a dance.

Hermione stared at him (for the second time that day) rather coolly for a few moments. But then she placed her tiny, ring-less finger into his larger one, and she was whisked away to a world she thought she would never set foot in again.

As Draco twirled her around, before her eyes materialized translucent bodies gilded in charcoal, with tarnished silver hair swept into tight, shiny buns, or cascading curls. Billowing ball gowns tickled the carpet that had transformed from tattered and faded to gorgeous and gleaming, and warm golden light flooded the room as the chandeliers instantly sprang to life, shedding the cocoons that had encased their diamonds for centuries. The tables whose ruins had once lain on the ground in neglected despair now stood sparkling and new, groaning under the weight of light cracker snacks and huge punch bowls. On one particular spin, Hermione saw that the instruments no longer held themselves, but were held by musicians who were executing the song being played with acute precision. The conductor, feeling Hermione's gaze on his back, turned his head and winked one inky black eye at her, whose iris was probably once blue or light green. The huge windows' curtains had dropped to the floor, and disappeared in a matter of seconds, only to reveal an inky black sky dotted with thousands of God's eyes.

Hermione looked back into Draco's eyes, and smiled weakly again. _'This is better,'_ she thought to herself. He smiled back, with his usually pale cheeks pink from continued contact with her, and he twirled her around again.

After many more dances and expired songs, Hermione and Draco took a break, retiring to a few squashy armchairs that surrounded one of the fireplaces. A few ghosts themselves were mingling peacefully on the chairs, talking to one another as if they hadn't been absent from this hall for centuries on end. One of the ghosts in particular, a large, robust looking man with a goatee and mop of dark hair, was observing them.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied breathlessly before she could stop herself. Draco looked at her in surprise. "I mean it's nice to be here. I've never been in this wing of the castle before." She added quickly, trying to cover up her blunder.

"I see," the ghost said, inclining his head ever so slightly to the left.

'_What am I doing?'_ Hermione asked herself, sick realization suddenly clutching at her throat. _'Why on earth am I here? I should be with Harry. He's the only one who knows, he's the only one who understands. Why am I here with Draco, why on this earth am I enjoying myself with him?'_

Hermione stood up abruptly; the drink that was held in her hand fell to the floor with a crash, and before Draco could even contemplate what it was she was doing she had already ran halfway across the ballroom, plunging through icy bodies in great effort to get to the door. She heard him call after her, something he hadn't done the last time she had run away from him, and before she knew it she was out in the corridors again. It was late, and she could see through broken windows a cloudy sky that was threatening to spill rain. The picture back in the banquet hall that the windows portrayed had only been a figment of her imagination.

She ran blindly down the darkened corridor, making lefts and rights. She could hear Draco's footsteps echoing off the walls just behind her, but she didn't stop running.

Unfortunately for her, she wasn't even familiar with the wing of the castle that she was currently in. Pearly tears clouded her vision, and before she knew it, she had come to a dead end, where a random torch began burning as it felt her presence.

She halted, her back to Draco, who had also stopped some ten feet away from her.

"Why do you always run?" he demanded, awakened rage swimming through every syllable of his question. Hermione could hear him breathing heavily, but didn't answer.

He took this as a cue to continue with the rant that he had probably been itching to do ever since she had left nearly ten years ago. "All you do is run," he repeated. "I don't understand. All I ever did was love you, and yet you still run. I don't know why it is that I try any longer."

Hermione gave a sharp intake of breath when he said that he loved her, but other than that she didn't make a sound.

"You ran ten years ago, you ran that night at the Christmas party, you ran a few months ago when I found you outside my door, and now you're running again. Why do you insist on depressing yourself further? Why don't you just get it over with?"

"Get what over with?" she spat as she turned to face him. This time it was her hands that were clenched into fists at her sides, it was her eyes that flashed lividly with suppressed anger. Her hair had already been scary enough before the matter had exposed itself to oxygen, but now it was beyond comprehension. It encircled her head, in a halo of crackling electricity, kinky curls springing out randomly from all sides. "Get what over with, Draco?"

"Get over what your problem is," he answered angrily. "You always blanche in fear whenever I'm near, and when you aren't trembling in anticipation, you're the happiest, the most content, that I've ever seen you. What in Merlin's name is your problem?"

"I'll tell you what my problem is," she replied, positively vibrating with the intense energy that was coursing through her veins. "My problem is that you, you disgusting selfish incredible pig of an ex-husband, you betrayed me. You left me for oblivion. You married that Cleopatra look-a-like, when you knew I was somewhere, waiting for you to come find me."

"I left you?" Draco interrupted, as an expression of maddened amusement etched itself on his face. "I left you?" he repeated. "Hermione, you were the one who ran out on me. How on earth can you say that I left you?"

"You did," Hermione insisted, tightening and loosening her fists as if she was testing their strength. "You married her, because she was pregnant. And what did you do to me when you found out I was pregnant, huh? You told me to get rid of it. How dare you tell me that I left you. You left me with what I had done, only to please you; you left me over in that country, where everyone is pigheaded and disgusting. I guess it's not that different from here, actually, because you're here, and if there was ever the most revolting, greedy, incredibly hypocritical person in the world, it would be you!" she screamed, her eyes bulging out of their sockets, her veins throbbing almost painfully in her neck and temples. "Now get me out of here, right this instant."

"No Hermione, you're going to listen to me no matter what, and if you don't I'm not going to take you back."

But Hermione wasn't listening. She was still glowing with anger, her eyes flashing dangerously. "How dare you tell me you love me, the nerve you most possess. That explains your daring to marry _her _after only a few years of my absence. If you really loved me, you would've waited until I came back, you wouldn't have gotten married, you wouldn't have kept having sex with her and making more little mini-Cleopatra's. Oh, no you would've" but what he would've done was left for others to imagine, for in Hermione's outburst, she had failed to notice Draco walk swiftly to her side. She did, however, cut her sentence off when he kissed her mouth.

She immediately consented, kissing him back more passionately then ever before. She backed into the cold wall that was behind her, his hands coming to rest above her head, as his tongue forced entrance into her mouth.

She melted underneath his warm body, all of her pent-up anger pouring into him, and her arms wrapped themselves around his body. Her nails scratched at his back, and before she knew it, his shirt lay discarded on the floor. His mouth was slowly making its way down over her chin, sucking on all available skin, and one of his hands was tugging restlessly at the buttons of her shirt. She fumbled restlessly with each one, and soon that too lay on the ground.

"Hermione?" she heard from underneath the slight moans she was emitting, and she immediately gasped, pushing Draco off of her as she struggled to cover up her exposed body with her small arms.

Harry was standing there, staring at her with his mouth gaping open in shock. Draco stood next to her, his usual smirk painted on his face once again.

"Harry," Hermione struggled through ragged breathing. Her heart was still beating unnaturally fast due to the things Draco had been doing to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to look for you, because it's really late, after eleven, and I heard you yelling, and then" he trailed off, looking heartbroken and downcast.

Hermione bent low to retrieve her shirt, but realized that Draco had already picked it up and was handing it to her.

"Harry," she repeated, attempting to explain herself, but she was at a lose for words.

"Come on, I'll walk you back," Harry mumbled, holding out an arm for her to come to him. She consented, and walked into his arms, leaving Draco behind to fester in the coolness of the drafty corridor, with only a lone torch to keep his lonely self company.

A/N: Poor Draco, every time something good happens, something else disastrous interrupts it, like clocks, and house elves, and Harry. And poor, poor Harry. I pity him more than Draco, because all he ever did was love Hermione. It's not his fault Draco's such a prat. And Hermione isn't as smart as some people think she is. She shouldn't be gallivanting around, doing whatever she pleases. She's going to get herself into trouble one of these days.

Not much plot advancement in this chapter. Just a nice little romantic interludeâ well not really, I suppose. Don't worry, hopefully everything will turn out in the end, for the good or bad you'll just have to wait and see.

Lovablechick213: Don't worry, Auset seeing Hermione's pregnancy is really importantâ you'll see. Thanks for all your reviews!!

And thanks to the rest of you tooâ I love you all for your reviews, especially the regulars!!

(now review!!)


	19. Guns 'N Roses

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Nineteen: Guns 'N Roses

Written By: Auburn Lily

"Hermione, where are those books I let you borrow?" Jessa yelled from the doorway of Harry's rooms. "I need them to finish packing!!"

A muffled reply answered this demand and Hermione came hurtling down the steps a few moments later, three trunks following her. "I know Jessa, you told me earlier this morning and last night and yesterday morning. I know you need them. Hold on a second. Besides we're all going to the same place, so be a little more patient okay?" Hermione answered, quite irritably.

Ever since Harry had found Draco and herself having an intense snog session in an empty corridor a few days earlier, he had been extremely cold and distant towards her. This had not done wonders for her mood, in any case.

Hermione stared around the empty common room, looking for any misplaced items. The bookshelf in the corner had been cleaned of all books on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that Hermione could find, and Hermione had already searched under all of the couches for any offending objects that may have crept under them.

"Well?" Jessa asked rudely, her hands on her hips. "I'm almost done packing and I want to get over there as soon as possible. Sinead said they're all going down to the beach. I love the beach."

"Jessa, we're only a floo-away. Calm down, Merlin all mighty, I tell you." Hermione replied as Crookshanks curled around her ankles, brushing his bottlebrush tail against her bare legs. "They're packed, anyways. Can't you just wait until we get to their house and unpack?"

"No, I need everything to be in its rightful place, or else I feel as if I'm forgetting something and I hate that feeling."

"Fine," Hermione huffed, and threw herself in front of one of her trunks, causing Crookshanks to hiss rather over-dramatically and shoot out from under her. She lifted the lid violently to reveal hundreds of books somehow packed into the small confines of the trunk. Hermione shoved a few books aside, and then found the ones Jessa had let her burrow, tossing them to Jessa before shutting the lid again. Dust flew up in little puffs of smoke. "Happy?" Hermione asked, her mouth set in a thin line of annoyed anger.

"Yes," Jessa replied calmly, now much more content that she had gotten her way, however trivial it may have seemed. "Where's Harry?" she asked curiously, looking around the common room for any sign of the man.

"He left," Hermione replied bitterly, levitating her trunks once more and directing them over to the fireplace. "Right after the students were gone yesterday morning, he left for Ron's place."

"Oh well, I'm almost done, I'll be over in a bit with the rest of my trunks okay?" Jessa announced, before taking her leave through the door once more.

Hermione set her three trunks down inside the fireplace and after adding a few pinches of floo powder yelled "Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place!" The luggage disappeared in an instant. She sat down heavily on the couch, waiting for Jessa to return, and thinking bitterly of Harry's attitude towards her the last few days.

He really was being incredibly disagreeable with her. He barely spoke to her, and when he did, it was short, concise statements, like "yes," and "no," and "sure." She knew, of course, that he was upset with her for fraternizing with Draco, but what was she supposed to do? Draco was here in the school, a few hallways down, so what was she supposed to do, sit back on her fat rear sulking all day long? Not likely.

And it hadn't been her fault anyway that Draco had found her; if he wasn't so nosy and maybe if he wasn't so insistent about always knowing where Hermione was all the time, he wouldn't be feeling so downcast right now.

"Humph," Hermione spat gruffly, folding her arms over her chest. 'Well, he'll have to be friendly to me when I get to Ron's so we can keep up this double act thing going on,' Hermione thought in a satisfied way.

About ten minutes later, a bunch of raucous was heard outside the door, which announced that Jessa was having serious issues with her trunks. Hermione waited for Jessa to successfully place all five of her trunks into the fireplace before she stood up and sent them on their way.

"Thanks," Jessa said as she wiped sweat from her brow.

"Sure," Hermione replied calmly. "Let's go."

Upon arrival at Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place, Hermione and Jessa found the house in absolute uproar. The children were running all over the place in their little, brightly colored bathing suits. They were clinging to what looked like toy broomsticks and some even had fake muggle guns that were emitting puffs of smoke and loud noises every few moments.

Allyn, who pretended to be sophisticated and "grown-up", was leading a pack of about 9 younger children, all of who appeared to have war paint on their faces. Hermione could pick out Siobhan and Aidan in this particular group, and the children were chanting some odd kind of war cry.

Hermione and Jessa proceeded into the kitchen, where they met an even more bizarre scene. Baby Brina was sitting in a high chair with noodles and cheerios stuck on her face and Arthur was attempting to feed her mashed-up peaches out of a glass jar. Sinead was standing near the stove, next to three other red headed women, who were all within an inch of Sinead's height. They were all stuffing a bunch of food into a lined box that resembled a muggle cooler. At the table sat Brendan, and eight other children that Hermione didn't recognize. They were all shoving food into their mouths at alarming rates.

"Sinead," Hermione yelled across the racket that was being made in the kitchen. The Wizarding Wireless was blaring out something that sounded remarkably like the dead legend Selena. Arthur was now cooing very loudly at Brina, and Brendan and his companions were picking up the war chants again. They had decided to circle the table in some sort of ceremonial dance, humming and shouting sporadically. And to add mess to the already brimming cauldron, Ron entered the kitchen through the other door, bringing Fred and George with him.

"What?" Sinead shot back, not really aware who was calling for her.

"Sinead, do you need any help?" Hermione asked, but as she spoke the words, she saw that it was going to be near impossible to cross the kitchen tiles, as the children were now snaking under the table legs and chairs, and through the legs of Arthur, Sinead, and her three sisters.

"Oh, hi Hermione," Ron called from his doorway. "Sinead, we do NOT need that much food!!!"

"Ron, if you're not going to help, then get out. Can't you see how crowded it is already?"

"Sinead, where are all the kids? They're all over the place and I can't find any of them!!"

"Does it look like I would know?" Sinead demanded loudly, as she placed an open bottle of firewhiskey precariously atop a stack of apples. "Go find them, we're leaving soon. And get this," she added, gesturing to the children who were now shooting fake bullets at themselves, "out into the garden. NOW!!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Ron replied, shaking his head exasperatedly at Hermione from across the room. "Stay there, I'll tell you what to do when I get over there!" he called to her.

Hermione nodded back at him, and waited for him to come through the hall from the other side. When he did, she noticed that Fred and George had already gone. She supposed that they got separate assignments.

"Now, this is going to be hard," Ron was saying, looking at the children. "There are about six different _tribes _like this located all around the house. I already sent Fred and George to find two of them, and now we can each find one. I'll send this one out into the gardens. Maybe they can start de-gnoming like I asked them to earlier."

Hermione was sent to search the first floor, while Jessa went to the second, and Hermione soon found out that the entire house was like the kitchen. In the sitting room sat a whole bunch of redheads Hermione couldn't recognize who were all arguing so intently over something that they didn't even notice when she came in to search the room. They kind of reminded her of a bunch of Greeks.

However, Hermione found no tribes in this room either, so she carried on to the next, which was the drawing room. Some more people were in this room, and a few at least said hellos, although they were gathered around what looked like a muggle television set. Hermione wondered why on earth Sinead and Ron had a muggle television in their house and how it could possibly work well with all of the magic floating around in the air.

Then she remembered that Arthur was there.

Upon closer inspection, Hermione found a few smoky, suspicious looking arrows that were clinging to a few paintings. So, after getting rid of the arrows with a swift flick of her wand, she carried on into the next room.

This room, which looked like a study, was devoid of people. However, it did appear that the tribe had visited this as well. A large globe, which was covered in multi-colored tacks, had been knocked to the floor, and the bookcases that lined the walls were empty of books, because they were all lying on the faded carpet that was depicting a very messy goblin rebellion. It appeared that the children, or natives, or whatever you wished to call them, had deemed it necessary to climb up the bookcase. Papers lay strewn over top of the ancient books, and the desk in the corner rattled.

A boggart.

After Hermione cleaned up the mess that the children had made, she carried on out into a hallway. She really didn't want to deal with the boggart at the moment. She didn't even want to know what it was her worst fear would be.

A few old statues lay on the ground, and a few more paintings were hanging crookedly off the wall. After straightening these out as well, Hermione stepped through the first door she saw and she finally found one of the groups.

Inside was Allyn's group, which was a relief because she didn't know how she was going to get a bunch of them to listen to her if they didn't even know her.

This room was some sort of warped playroom; the walls and floor were rough stone, and torch brackets hung from the walls. A faint dripping of water could probably be heard if the yelling and screaming hadn't been ricocheting off of the walls at that moment. But the floor was covered in some sort of worn rug, which was decorated in geometrical shapes and faded colors that were probably once bright. A huge, out-of-place couch (it was covered in white leather that had pink and orange juice stains all over it) was placed smack dab in the middle of a bunch of broken toys that were strewn all over the place. Some child counting music was drifting out of another Wizarding Wireless box in the corner of the room.

It reminded Hermione strongly of the dungeons at Hogwarts. This reminded her of Draco because he taught in the dungeons.

And atop the couch, and the toy shelves, sat or stood the children that Hermione had seen in the hall. They didn't even notice that she had entered the room they were yelling so loudly.

"Silencio," Hermione yelled, lifting her wand. Immediately, the sound was cut off in the room, and the children were left mouthing war chants. Confusion etched itself on their faces as they slowly realized that they weren't making any noise. "Sonorus," Hermione added, pointing the wand to her throat. The children were slowly acknowledging her presence. "Now," she announced. "My name is Hermione. Allyn knows me," she said, nodding to Allyn who blushed a bright crimson. "We are all going to go outside, and you will continue your war or whatever it is that you are doing, out there. You are NOT, under any circumstances, to re-enter this house. When we get outside I will lift the spell. Now, follow me."

And the children followed her through the house and out the front door. She walked them around the back, where three of the other tribes, including Brendan's, were now congregated. It appeared that they were conspiring, as they were all huddled together tightly. As soon as they caught sight of the group Hermione was leading, they broke apart, running around and screaming at the top of their little lungs, their arms thrashing and flailing madly.

Hermione muttered the counter spell to the silencing charm that she had placed on her group, and then whispered "Quietus," before letting herself back into the house through the kitchen door.

Currently in the kitchen was Sinead, her three sisters, Arthur, Brina, Fred and Jessa. The huge cooler that was being packed earlier was now sitting atop of a towering stack of beach toys. The Wizarding Wireless in the corner was now singing softly about bubbles and toils and troubles. It was a version of the famous song Hermione had never heard before.

"Hello, everyone," Hermione announced.

"Hello, Hermione," Sinead said from the stove, still taking great gulps out of the firewhiskey she held. "Have I introduced you to my sisters?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, well, this one's Bridgett," she said, motioning to the one who was leaning against the refrigerator. "And this one's Ciannait," she said, pointing out the one next to her. "And this last one's Enya" she said, gesturing towards the one who was standing next to Fred. They all looked alike, with their long red hair and sea-green eyes and each had the others smile when they nodded their heads at Hermione.

"Hello, nice to meet you all," Hermione replied politely. "Sinead, I don't mean to be rude, but who're all these people in your house? And whose are all those kids?"

"Oh, well," Sinead began. "I have a very large family. They're all staying here because someone's just got married. I invited them to stay a little while more, to see my baby," she explained, patting her large, round belly.

"Where will they all stay?" Hermione asked, for the first time in her life staring at someone dumbfounded.

"Well, a few weeks back, after you came to stay for that weekend, Ron and I decided that we should go through all of the rooms and get rid of everything dark that was in them. So we did, and we came across this door that led into these amazing underground rooms. They were already furnished, all of them, like these up here. It's perfect to keep a bunch of people in."

At that moment, Ron entered through the door Hermione had just entered into, and knocked her on the bum. "Scuse', Hermione," he muttered, searching the room for his wife. Upon finding her, he announced that all of the children had been rounded up and were all playing in the back yard.

"Did you remove the war paint?" Sinead asked, taking another particularly large gulp of firewhiskey. The bottle seemed to automatically refill.

"Damn," Ron cursed. "I knew I had forgotten something." He said, turning to the back door again. "Has anyone seen Harry?" he asked curiously, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

General murmurs of negativity could be heard all around the kitchen, until Jessa volunteered eagerly to look for him.

"Actually Jessa," Hermione said. "I'll come with you. I have to unpack anyways."

As they entered the hallway, they heard Ron yelling at Sinead for the amount of beach toys they were taking down the cliff.

Most of the summer spent at Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place was rainy, gray and overcast. The sky was heavy, the grounds saturated in water, and when Hermione stood outside staring over the cliff out into the ocean, she wasn't able to tell the sky and sea apart. It was all varying shades of gray.

And this only reminded her of Draco.

But, not all the days were humid and wet. A few were fresh and hot, with cool breezes floating in over the ocean. And on these days was Number 7 Wilgus Cemetery Place was a truly charming home. Lush and green and bursting with the unexpected it was, with gnome gardens hidden in parts of the yard and vegetable plots and exotic flower beds popping up all over the place.

The cliff on the grounds was steep and sharp, but at the bottom of the rocky steps was a strip of beach, complete with golden sands and gray-blue foamy waves that crashed on rocky crags. Algae and seaweed swam in the ocean water, tickling the children's toes as they looked for shells and worn bottle glass. Dolphins could be seen each morning leaping over the water, which was stained pink and gold from the brilliant sunrises. Pine trees sat back a bit from the beach and pine mixed with salt had to be the sweetest scent Hermione ever did smell. Everyday at the beach was spent listening to shorebirds calls and children's laughter and the latest hits on the wizarding wireless. Every evening was spent sipping tea and coffee and laughing at each other's jokes.

The days that did dawn bright and cloudless were spent listening to Ron and Sinead's petty arguing, which was done over things like the amount of food that was to be taken down to the beach or why the children needed so many toys if they never even played with them. These spats were usually won by Sinead.

Hermione also found that upon closer inspection, and forced meetings by Ron, that Sinead's family was indeed like a bunch of Greeks. They barely had any Greek in them, however, as one of Sinead's aunt's, christened Liadan, had insisted on informing Hermione of. They were an incredibly odd family, with their infectious weirdness pervading throughout the walls of the house and their intense arguments that included everyone. It seemed that they argued over everything, right down to which fork was to be used if one were to partake in a formal dinner party.

The most bizarre and eccentric member of the family that Hermione met, however, probably had to be Uncle Niles, as the children called him. One night, he deemed it absolutely necessary that Hermione hear his entire life story.

"Now," he started. "As you can see, I'm a vizard." For some odd reason, he was speaking in a forced Bulgarian accent. Sinead had already explained to them that Uncle Niles liked to sporadically pick different types of accents and jump back and forth between them. Eventually, if he were talking for a long enough period of time, he would unknowingly lapse back into his normal Irish. "I vanted to be an auror, but after two and a half years of training at the Irish Ministry, I decided that it vasn't vhat I vanted to do. It vas much to tedious and vorrisome.

"So, I attended a muggle college for about fifteen years or so. I studied for, and earned, about five different degrees, because I couldn't properly decide what it was zhat I wanted to do. Zhere were zhings zhat after I earned zhe degree, I decided zhat my interests still lay elsewhere." Now, he had switched from Bulgarian to some sort of western French accent, and Hermione was finding it hard to follow his mutating speech. "A few of zhe zhings zhat I studied were veterinarian work, neuron-surgery, and teaching.

"Now, you would understand zhe first two, as you are muggle-born, but zhese other uneducated dunder-'eads be'ind me," he said, gesturing to the family members who were gathered in the room, "zhink zhat it is much too unethical to be cutting someone up, no matter what zhe problem is. So, after I wandered around for a few years, I decided to go to a beauty school, where I learned how to apply make-up, and give massages and pedicures, and even do hairstyles. As you can see, I am able to keep up to date with the most trendy styles of the day, and I am constantly wooing all of the ladies," he announced, sweeping back his personal rendition of the Elvis hairstyle.

Hermione doubted, however, that he really was "wooing" all of the ladies, because his hairstyle was more than fifty years old, and it was not the inky-black that Elvis' was. He had also switched accents again, currently talking in a botched rendition of American speech. Finally, after a few more words, he was speaking in Irish once more.

"But, alas, I could not follow such a glamorous dream forever. I am currently in trading, with things I should probably not talk about in front of such young company," he finished, gesturing to the teenage family members who were all clustered at his feet, playing gobstones.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Harry were able to effectually cover up their lie, even though Harry was still cross with Hermione for her sporadic rendezvous' with Draco. Hermione presumed that he thought it as cheating. They held hands in the presence of the rest of the family, stole kisses on the cheeks and even on the mouths, every now and then; Harry usually instigated these. They also slept in the same room, the room that Sinead had showed Hermione upon her first visit to the old house. But Hermione knew that Harry would never try anything funny unless Hermione wanted him to. Harry knew that Hermione didn't want him to.

Hermione caught furtive glances being cast at her by Jessa whenever she and Harry were in close proximity to each other. She didn't let this be known to Harry, however, and she had a feeling that no one else noticed those odd looks. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit protective of Harry in these situations. Sometimes, she felt surges of jealously rise inside of her. She felt defensive of Harry, and did not want anyone except herself to be subject to his love. Although she did not love him in the slightest way past incredible friendship, she couldn't help feeling this way. She blamed it on her pregnancy.

But when these occurrences were made, Hermione couldn't help but pick out all of the reasons why Jessa wasn't good enough for Harry.

And then she would ask herself why she thought that she was good enough for him.

Sinead's baby was to be due at the end of June, but it was late, and came July fifth. It was a boy, as was predicted, and Ron named it Keegan. He was a fat little thing, with a mop of dark red hair, and dark brown eyes that peered around curiously whenever a healer came into the room at St. Mungo's, or whenever someone else came to call. Sinead was round and happy, with rosy cheeks and glittering eyes, and always was something else when someone came to visit.

Keegan was indeed adorable, as all of the children (whose numbers reached an incredible fifty and Hermione was still counting) insisted on informing everyone at the house when Sinead and the baby had returned from St. Mungo's. They loved to touch and poke and hold and tickle. Hermione was surprised that one of Keegan's brown eyes hadn't fallen out yet, what with the amount of prodding the children did.

Soon, however, the last days of the break came, and Hermione, Harry, and Jessa were expected back at the school. Hermione was nervous about teaching all of her classes, but she was even more nervous about her peaking pregnancy. She was due early in October, and the days until then were promising to fly by very quickly.

Hermione had more to think about, however, than just her classes and pregnancy. She hadn't forgotten at all the warning that Narcissa had given her, and Narcissa's shaded face and dark hair tended to haunt her dreams at night. She constantly watched herself, and those around her, for any signs of danger, but she found none. She didn't fully understand what it was that Narcissa had warned her about, but she couldn't get it from her mind.

The night of the Welcoming Feast was star-shot and bright, with a huge silver moon hanging lower than it ever had before. Hermione sat up at the top table with Jessa and Harry. This was the only meal that Draco was required to attend throughout the entire year, but he was on the other side, and Hermione hadn't seen him yet. The students had already filed in, been sorted, and Dumbledore had already given his magnificent start-of-term speech. Now, all everyone was doing was tucking into their plates and stuffing their mouths.

"So Jessa," Harry was saying as he sliced up his chicken. "What are you starting the term with this year?"

Jessa talked for forever it seemed like, and Hermione excused herself very early from the table (the second course hadn't even started yet), claiming an uneasy stomach. Harry offered to walk her back to their room, but she declined the offer.

Outside the hall was cold and dark and Hermione swayed dangerously on her feet. She held out a hand for support from a wall, but before she could even steady herself strong warm hands grasped her waist, holding her up. She gasped loudly, and turned around to meet Draco's molten silver eyes staring back at her in the darkness.

"How was your summer?" he asked, releasing her after he was sure she could stand properly.

"It was fine," she replied breathlessly, wiping hair out of her eyes. "How was yours?"

"Lonely," he answered truthfully. "You met my wife and kids before, right?" Apparently, it didn't bother him talking about Auset in front of Hermione.

"Yeah, I did," Hermione replied uncomfortably. "Why aren't you in the feast?"

"I was, but then I saw you leave so I thought I'd join you," Draco said. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he added, gesturing towards the doors that led outside.

Hermione thought for a moment, but then consented, wrapping her jumper more tightly around herself as they headed out into the gusty night. It was unusually cold for the beginning of September.

They walked in silence for a while, heading down towards the lake. Hermione could hear singing emitted from the lake, and had a faint idea that it was the mermaids that resided in the water. They stopped at a large rock that was a few feet from the lapping water, and merely stared over the surface of the lake. The moon was painted on the smooth surface of the water, clear and bright, and before Hermione could do anything else, Draco decided that it was fit to tell her all about why he and Auset got married.

"Well, you know how my mother used to like to throw parties and the like for wealthy dignitaries and ministry members? Actually, I think she picked that up from my father," Draco said wistfully. "Well, one evening, in the winter, I decided that I was going to attend one, instead of moping around upstairs"

_The Malfoy's grand banqueting hall was alive and fresh with iced garlands lacing the wedding cake of a ceiling, and braiding the banisters that led down to the dance floor. Gigantic Christmas trees grew from each corner of the room, gilded in gold icicles and red and green holly and mistletoe hung from every archway. The balcony was frosty, covered in opaline, pristine snow that had never been touched, and a beautiful string quartet was settled in one corner of the room nicely. Refreshment tables lined one wall, covered in perfect pastries, exquisite éclairs, and wafting cider that had been prepared by the finest French cooks in wizarding Europe. _

_About fifty or so couples graced the dance floor, partaking in a flitting waltz, the women being spun around and the men holding them up. Ball gowns done in gold and every color of crimson one might imagine brushed the floor lightly, along with sparkling glass slippers that clicked in time with the sophisticated music. _

"_Draco, dear?" he heard, and he turned on the last step of the grand staircase to face his mother. _

"_Yes, mum?"_

"_I'm so glad you decided to attend this one," Narcissa said, holding out a jeweled hand for him to take. _

"_May I have this first dance, mother?"_

"_Of course, love."_

_And so they danced, and they talked about everything and nothing in particular. The waltz that they were dancing to was a long one. _

"_I went to St. Mungo's earlier, to see your father," Narcissa said. "I wanted you to come with me, but I think you were out riding."_

"_How is he?" Draco inquired as he spun her around gently. _

"_Oh, you know, still thinks he's as sane as ever," she replied lightly, brushing off the matter as though they were discussing it over cocktails. _

_Draco sighed heavily. No doubt Lucius was at this moment plotting on how to be let out of St. Mungo's. He'd been in there for a little over three years, and Draco knew that he had to be getting restless. _

"_I told the Healers to increase the amount of security outside of his cell," Narcissa said, reading Draco's mind. "They said that he was never a problem, always terribly polite." _

'_No doubt trying to get on their good side,' Draco thought bitterly to himself. _

"_They all adore him," Narcissa commented, reading Draco's mind again. "Frankly, I don't know why. He's such a little brat, throwing tantrums and the like all the time." She shook her head mildly. _

_Draco snorted and the waltz ended. _

"_Come, Draco, there's someone I would like you to meet," Narcissa said, leading him off the dance floor and over to one of the small tables draped in glittering beige lace coverlets. Each little table could sit about four or five people, respectively, and each table had a candelabrum in the center, all eight candles lit. _

_At this table sat three people whom Draco had never seen before. "They're Egyptian dignitaries, very powerful at the Ministry there," Narcissa whispered into his ear, almost inaudibly, before they reached the table. Two of them were older, with wrinkled tan skin and shiny black hair. The other one, sitting directly across from Draco, appeared to have just gotten out of school she looked so young. _

_She smiled broadly, and reached a large, brown hand across the table to shake Draco's. "My name is Auset Naeem," she said smoothly, her voice swimming in rich, deep, accented tones. _

"_Draco Malfoy," Draco replied. _

_The woman, no doubt, was very beautiful. Half of her shiny black hair was piled on her head in little elaborate twists that looked like tiny roses. Embedded in her hair were golden-jeweled hairpins that reflected the chandelier light overhead. The bottom half of her hair fell down past her waist, shimmering and smooth, straight as a pin. Her eyes were amazing; Draco had to admit he had never seen eyes like hers before. They were ivy green, with a dark charcoal gray ring surrounding the iris. She stared up at him through dark, long, curled eyelashes, and her eyebrows were perfectly groomed, right down to the end hairs. Her skin was illuminant, contrasting splendidly with the dark brown gown that she wore, which over-accentuated her cleavage. _

"_What an unusual name," she commented in the smooth, icy voice that vibrated out of her slender throat. Around her neck was clasped an exquisite necklace. A dragonfly, beset in gold, amber, and emerald jewels, slid on a fine golden chain. "Auset Malfoy," she purred, rolling the name over her tongue. "Sounds perfect, doesn't it?" _

"_Would you like to dance?" Draco asked, trying to be polite. _

"_I would be simply delighted," she replied, allowing Draco to escort her to the floor. _

"You see, Hermione," Draco suddenly said, breaking the flashback. "I was weak, so incredibly weak. I don't think I would've been able to survive if it hadn't been for my mother. I just didn't do anything anymore. I sat around all dayâ sometimes I rode the horses, but I didn't have a job. I had just turned twenty when I had met Auset, and youâ you were still fresh in my mindâ you will always be fresh in my mind. What was I supposed to do?"

He paused here, staring out over the lake. The anxious silence was marred by a loud splashing sound, which indicated the Giant squid swimming closely to the surface. Hermione could see its glinting tentacles reflected in the clear moonlight.

"She got pregnant," Draco continued bluntly. "She wasn't what you were Hermione; she didn't even come close to comparing to you. I didn't love her. And yet, I felt determined to not make the same mistake with her that I had made with you. It was like I was trying to amend what I had done with you. I know it didn't work, because you never came back to me. You never knew what it was that I did." He looked at her with pleading eyes, but Hermione merely stared straight ahead, determined not to even give him a glance.

She couldn't start crying.

"So, I proposed, and we got married. It was quite a simple affair. No flowers or gorgeous gowns or elaborate reception dinners. We eloped at the Ministry. I didn't want to relive what I had done with you, because it wasn't the same marrying her. And she didn't want the shame of a huge wedding, when she was pregnant. So that was that, and then Lotus was born. And then a few years later Alarica was born, and then Zenden and then Nabiyre. They were all the most beautiful children, and I did love them, but it wasn't the same with Auset. I thought having children was supposed to be a glorious and wondrous thing. It wasn't what I had hoped for. It wasn't what I thought it would be with you."

But Hermione couldn't help herself anymore. What was she supposed to do, what with him telling her all of these things? What he was saying brought back dreadful memories of screaming matches and laughing contests. They had been such a happy pair, always happy. And now they weren't. Now they could never be together again. And Hermione would have to raise these children, the children that were curled up together in her belly, all on her own.

"But, enough talk of what was," Draco said, turning to her.

He took her hand in his, and brushed away the strands of hair that had melded to her cheeks in the tear tracks. He swept away all of her tears with the touch of his lips, and then caught her mouth in a feverish kiss.

This time, they weren't drunk, and they weren't passionately angry at one another. They were just there at the foot of the water, kissing each other calmly and sweetly, and basking in the warm air that was coming off the lake. Hermione had no regrets racing through her head at this contact, and she instigated more of it, backing into the rock and sliding down it onto the cold brown earth, letting Draco's entire form press against her gently.

And that was itâ the lake water was still warm enough for them to lay in. And they did lay in it, Draco on top of Hermione, with their clothes shed back on shore. Hermione's hair floated serenely in the soothing motion of the tiny waves that crashed on the sand, and the dark locks clung to her chest and rounded stomach. They embraced Draco's lithe form, clinging to his chiseled chest and wrapping themselves around his arms.

What they shared that night was indescribableâ it was so much better than that night at the inn and it was so much more memorable. All Hermione could think of was staying in his arms forever. She would be content then, wouldn't she?

She hadn't been this happy since her wedding day, which had been so long ago, in such a far away place. Hermione didn't dwell on it, however. How could she, when Draco was doing things to her that rendered her virtually thoughtless?

He somehow managed to kiss every square inch of her body, and then everywhere in between; he prodded and poked, sucked and licked every sensitive place on her that he could remember and then he found some more places.

At the end of it all, which came after much reluctance from both parties, they merely laid there in the water, which splashed angrily at their sides. Hermione's fingers were tangled in the seaweed, and Draco's fingers were tangled in her hair, and they just laid there, falling asleep inside of each other, lulled to sleep by the harmonious voices the mermaids cast across the water.

And that next morning, around three or so, when they trudged back up to the castle together, they noticed that in the midst of their love making, miraculously thousands of red roses had sprung up all over the bank of the lake, and had spread onto the lawn. They rippled gently under the fading light of the moon, blanketing the ground in crimson silkiness.

Even though it was September.

A/N: Ending on that noteâ finally Hermione and Draco get to both indulge in themselves, hmmm? I know you all have been waiting for that moment for a while.

Sorry this took so long to come outâ I wrote it first, but then Serenity and I decided it needed to be rewritten, because it wasn't at all up to my usual standards. It was kind of scrappily written. But hopefully, this chapter turned out better than the other one I had planned on putting upâ its about 50 longer than the original for one thing, and the format of the entire chapter isn't so abruptly done. If it was really badly done, please tell me in a review, okay?

I hope you liked Sinead's familyâ I really wanted to incorporate them into this chapter, because they have to be my favorite characters in the entire story. The huge family who argues all the time was a mapped out after my family. Believe me, you really don't want to know

Thanks to all those who reviewedâ keep them coming, and you people who don't review but reap the benefits of this storyâ you should review too!

Thanks to Lady of Ankoku for her betaing, as usualâ if she hadn't suggested rewriting the chapter, than I probably wouldn't have rewritten it.

Oh, and for anyone who is wondering, italics was a flashback from Dracoâ the first one in the story. I didn't want him to have to tell the whole storyâ I thought it would be better if I did it in flashback formâ then you guys would get the whole picture better.


	20. Anniversaries and Birthdays

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Twenty: Anniversaries and Birthdays

Written by: Auburn Lily

After that blissful night that Hermione spent with Draco under the star-pocked sky, many more were spent in various rooms of the castle. Although not all of them consisted of sex (for Hermione was not always in the mood), they were blissful and enlightening at the same time. Almost every night consisted of meetings between the two, and somehow Hermione managed to keep Harry's knowledge of her midnight excursions at zero.

The thing about Draco that Hermione found out through all of the conversations that they had held was that he had changed. A lot. He was no longer the seventeen-year old that he had once been, full of vitality, and he no longer possessed the carefree spirit that he had once had. He was much more mature now, and Hermione could see that although the last nine years of his life had not been filled with absolute happiness (which pleased her no matter how much she tried to deny it) he had fallen in love with his four daughters, and he told her once that he had never felt anything like what he felt for his daughters for anyone before.

All of September Hermione discovered a side of him that she had never before seen. He was caring and gentle, and somehow wise. Hermione never thought she'd see the day that Draco Malfoy was wise. He had always been so reckless; now he wasn't. It seemed he didn't want to risk anything that might tear him away from his children.

He wasn't the same person that she had fallen in love with so long ago, to put it shortly.

Hermione thought that maybe she was losing her wits about her; she didn't know why she was thinking the things she was thinking; they seemed to defy everything she had fought against for the later part of her life.

That morning had dawned bright and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. Birds were chirping away at the crisp weather that had fallen over the castle, but Hermione could still feel a warm breeze filtering in through her open windows from across the lake. She was still staying in Harry's dorms, despite her longings to be in Draco's bed, and Harry was still sleeping on the couch in the common room (though she had reason to believe that he transfigured the sofa to a bed after she was supposed to be asleep).

Hermione had woken that morning with an idea in her subconscious, but had refused to acknowledge it all day. It was now two in the afternoon, and she had still not thought about it. On this day for the last nine years she had refused to acknowledge it, and she thought to herself 'Why acknowledge it now?'

She brushed some hair out of her eyes as a tear slid down her flushed cheeks. There was no use trying to block it out of her mind; she just couldn't keep him out of her head.

Today, ten years ago, on September 28, she had married Draco Malfoy.

A bird chirruped somewhere outside her window, and she curled into a fetal position where she lay on the bed. From where she was sitting she could just see the tips of the stands that surrounded the Quidditch Pitch, the little flags flapping in the breeze, and she sat up again, with bits of hair clinging to her wet cheeks. She sniffled loudly, and then padded slowly but surely out of the room, hoping against hope that Harry wasn't out in the Common Room.

After tiptoeing out through the door past a snoring Harry, she made her way down to the Quidditch Field, even though her feet were swollen over the tops of her shoes. The afternoon was crisp and cool, with a warm breeze sifting in across the lake, and Hermione saw that the team practicing was Ravenclaw.

She settled herself in a seat at the bottom of the stands, not wanting to traipse all the way up to the top, and watched as the young players flitted around on their brooms.

Just staring up at the whisking brooms, the players yelling back and forth to one another, brought back memories for Hermione that she would rather not think about at the moment.

_A soft breeze caused the hair that was not wrapped up in a wooly hat to tickle her cheek. All around her, catcalls and shouts of excitement filled the early March air, as Quidditch players zipped back and forth above their heads. It was a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game, so the air was thick with intensity. Hermione was bitting her nails nervously, watching Harry, Draco, and Ron speed past her on their brooms, each contributing their own to the match._

_The match had been going on for quite some time now, there having been several sightings of the Snitch, but no successful captures. The Slytherin team was ahead by twenty points, and the game was getting more brutal and bloody than ever before. The commentator was sitting in the box with the clearest vantage point of the field, supervised by Professor McGonagall, as usual, and was being biased, as usual. He was yelling obscenities at the Slytherin team at every chance he got, and was cheering his own team on with a heated fervor._

_Hermione spotted Harry hovering near the Slytherin goalposts, his gaze sweeping the field and air above him repeatedly for the Snitch. The Slytherin Keeper Bentley Van Ingeen threw him nasty glances every chance he got, and several bludgers were hurled his way, doing their best to unseat him. Draco was flying around above the field, keeping one eye open for the safety of his own players, and the other peeled for flashes of gold anywhere._

_Hermione tore her eyes away from the two boys, and searched the players for flashes of red hair. True to formations set by Harry, Ginny and the other two chasers were moving into the Hawkshead Attacking Formation_. _Ron was stationed in his usual place, pacing back and forth between the three Gryffindor goalposts, his eyes open and alert for approaching Slytherin chasers with the Quaffle in possession. Random bludgers were tossed his way every now and then as well._

_At that moment in time, Hermione's attention was grabbed by abrupt movement by the Slytherin goalposts. Harry's broom handle had been pointed at a 90-degree angle skyward, and as he gained height every second, Draco could be seen shooting across the field to the area Harry had spotted the snitch. Hermione doubted that Draco had seen the snitch yet at the distance he was from where Harry had tilted his broom upward. In a few moments, the match would be over, with another Gryffindor victory underneath Harry's belt._

_These were the times when the most Hermione had to worry about was who to be happy for, Draco or her own Gryffindor team._

A loud shout jerked Hermione from her memory, and brought her back to reality. The Ravenclaw players were all descending to the ground, and it seemed that the practice was over. A few of her students waved to her, and she waved back before standing unsteadily to her feetShe had stopped trying a while ago to hide her pregnancy, and now the entire school knew of her burgeoning stomach. Two of her N.E.W.T. level Ancient Runes students raced over to her after setting their brooms down on the dead grass. She smiled graciously at them both as each grabbed one of her elbows to help her down the metal steps of the stands.

"Thanks girls," Hermione said.

"Of course, Professor," one of the girls, Kimmy Canningsaid, smiling, her brown eyes crinkling softly around the corners.

"How was our practice?" Ivana McKie asked eagerly.

"Oh, it was quite good," Hermione lied. She hadn't seen one bit of it. "When's your first match?"

"November-something" Kimmy replied. "Westin knows," she said, referring to their captain.

"I'm sure you'll do quite well," Hermione said, as they began to walk back towards where the girls had laid their brooms. "Do you know who the match is against?"

"Oh, that we know for sure!" Ivana answered, pulling the ponytail that held her black braided hair out. It swished down to the middle of her back, and Hermione was reminded briefly of Angelina Johnson. Her dark chocolate skin shone prettily in the bright October sun. "It's against Slytherin. It's all we've been hearing since Westin got the first schedule. _'We have to beat Slytherin,' _" she mimicked, doing her best impression of Westin's deep voice.

Hermione laughed delightedly as both girls bent to pick up their broomsticks. "It's wonderful to know that inter-house rivalry still exists."

"Oh, of course it does," Kimmy answered with vigor. Her freckled skin was dappled with sweat. "Anyways, see you later Professor."

"Yeah," Ivana agreed, and Hermione waved to them as they joined their team in the Ravenclaw locker rooms.

Hermione watched the girls heads disappear down the stairs, and then she set off on a long walk to a place that held both joyful anddespondent memories for her.

Hermione had always loved to take walks around the Hogwarts grounds in her youth, especially during the autumn months. The mountains around the school were speckled with ochre and auburn leaves and dark green pines and in the vast lake floated dead leaves that the giant squid knew to leave alone in fear of indigestion. The crunching of leaves was always such a pleasant sound to her, along with bird calls, and Hermione loved the feeling of cool air on her cheeks and in her hair. For about twenty minutes Hermione walked, not heeding the protest her ankles and feet were making, and after rounding a grove of dilapidated verdant and dead pine trees, found herself somewhere both beautiful and mournful at the same time.

The Hogwarts chapel, for those among the student and teacher body who were religious, stood on a cliff overlooking a portion of the lake, and a large, expansive graveyard stretched out behind it. The graves were all old, and most of the epitaphs scratched onto the headstones were illegible. Worn, treaded paths wove in and out of the grave stones, and flowers of people still being mourned stood proudly in above the decaying bodies.

Hermione took the path that led to the worn and battered door, scrutinizing the stone walls of the church that had stayed intact (of course, through the help of magic) since the construction of the school over one thousand years ago.

She stepped through the door, the doorknob cold in her hands, causing her to shiver. As soon as she stepped through the door, soft, melodic music came in contact with her ears.

She couldn't see the organ, because it wasaround a corner, but she knew exactly who was playing it. No one else she knew could execute that song with such precision and exactitude. It was the wedding march that had been played at their wedding, and as Draco's fingers flew over the ivory and ebony keys, Hermione felt a sense of belonging, being this close to him.

The church was small and archaic, the musty smell of misuse permeating every inch of space. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows that hung above the altar, throwing dappled light over the stone floor. A large wooden cross hung on the left wall, and the dark wooden pews were cracked with age, the shine of finish having been dulled from the surface after years of use. Candles burned constantly, amber light flooding the chapel during the evening, and the bible that Dumbledore had read from during the church service was open on the pedestal. Thin, dusty pages were held open by a brown ribbon.

Hermione stayed in the chapel until the wedding march was finished, and then left silently, tears becoming a constant on her face.

About two weeks later, on a Saturday, Hermione apparated into a dark alleyway on the outskirts of London, and climbed up the iron staircase that lead to the third floor apartment. It was early in the afternoon, and her umbrella was up due to the rain falling down steadily from the iron-laden sky. Ginny's porch light was on, a glow of amber light amidst gloomy darkness. Paint was pealing away from the door, and Hermione closed her umbrella as she stepped underneath the awning. She rapped loudly on the door, and a few seconds later heard a faint call from within, announcing Ginny's presence inside the house.

A few moments later, the bottom of the door scraped on the mat outside, and Ginny leaned against the side of the door, with no make-up and a smile on her face.

"Hello Hermione, come to call unexpectedly?" Ginny asked, opening the door wider for Hermione to step through and join her on the other side. The back door led to the kitchen, and Hermione wiped her feet off on a small wiry mat decorated in ivy. "Here, I'll take your cloak to the closet," Ginny offered, as Hermione slipped her shoes off and left them near the door.

"Thanks, Gin," she replied, slipping her cloak off her shoulders and sitting down slowly in one of the scrubbed wooden chairs that sat at the table. Ginny scurried off for a few seconds, and when she came back busied herself at the sink, filling a kettle with hot water, and put tea leaves in two tea cups. When she had placed the kettle on the stove, she sat across from Hermione, and folded her hands in her lap.

"How's life?" She asked placidly. Hermione noted that she had not gotten dressed for the day, and was still in a pair of knickers and a comfortable looking jumper that had Ministry Official blazoned across the front. Her long red hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"Uncomfortable," Hermione replied bitterly, and it was quite plain that it was uncomfortable for her. As it was quite close to her due date, she was extremely large, her hands resting on her stomach.

"I'm sorry, I'm not the least bit presentable. I've been doing some research for the Ministry, and I hadn't bothered getting dressed or anything. I can, if you would like to go out somewhere."

"No, no," Hermione said, shaking her head slowly. "I haven't desired to go out anywhere the past two months, and I most certainly don't want to right now. I would much rather just sit here in your cozy kitchen and discuss what it is that I came here about."

"Very well," Ginny replied, brushing a bit of her fringe out of her eyes. At that moment, the tea kettle screamed shrilly, cutting Hermione off as she opened her mouth, and Ginny stood up to get the tea ready. "Are you hungry, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, and after Ginny placed two sugar cubes and a spoonful of honey in both cups, sat down in front of Hermione again.

Hermione sipped her tea slowly, as it was still steaming quite profusely, and then set the cup down on the table, wiping the rim of the cup with a napkin from the condiment's basket that sat on the table pushed against the wall.

"My maternity leave is starting this week, and I need someone to fill in for me for a few months." Hermione began. "I was hoping you might do it for me, since you were so adapt at Arithmancy and Ancient Runes when we were at Hogwarts. I chose you since you work out of your home, and it won't be such a trial to get your work for the Ministry finished at Hogwarts. I would be forever in your debt if you could do this for me. It's getting extremely difficult for me to carry on with classes. I've brought all of my class outlines and assignments for the next few months, etc., and all you would really have to do is hand out assignments and give them the notes that I've written out here." Hermione paused for a moment, and reached down onto the floor where she had set a leather briefcase-looking object, and lifted it up onto her lap. She unzipped it, and took out a bunch of papers, and her teacher's editions of the books she followed for her classes. Ginny saw Hermione's perfect handwriting on tons of rolls of parchment, and tiny colored tabs were stuck to the pages of the books. "I have it all sectioned out, which chapters you are to cover when, and I have all of the tests and quizzes, etc. that the students are to take in my absence. I really need your help, Ginny."

"Of course, Hermione, I would be ecstatic to help you with your classes. I'm wondering how you managed to hold out this long."

"Thank you so much," Hermione replied gratefully. "You wouldn't ever have to grade anything, just drop the papers off to me every day or so, and I'll get them back to you as soon as possible, and I'll come by the classes every now and then to be sure that the students are behaving. If you have any discipline problems, just take them up with me and I'll be sure to take care of them. My leave ends after Christmas, so you won't need to stay longer than that. Of course, Albus will pay you and be sure you receive compensation for the time missed at home, etc., I've already discussed this with him, don't worry."

Ginny smiled, and nodded as Hermione packed all of the materials back into the leather briefcase. She handed the case across the table, and then drank the rest of her tea, which had cooled considerably.

"So," Hermione said conversationally, setting her empty tea cup back down in front of her. "How're things with Grady going?" Hermione asked, referring to Ginny's most recent love interest.

"Oh, fine," Ginny replied, waving her hand in front of her face. "He's really kind of boring me right now, and I don't know how to break it to him."

"Ginny, you really should start thinking about settling down with someone," Hermione answered, toying with the handle on her tea cup.

"You sound just like my mother," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, you're a fine one to talk, what with all this Harry/Draco nonsense you have going on."

"But we're not talking about me right now, Gin, we're talking about you." Hermione replied assertively. "Is there anyone at work you might fancy?"

"Hermione, you know I'm hardly ever at the office," Ginny answered in an exasperated tone. "When I first started working there, I opted for doing out-of-home work, and that's what I do. The only time I'm up there is when I have to report some new information I've found to the head of the department."

"Ok, ok Gin, I was just wondering you know," Hermione said in defense, holding her hands up in front of her chest. "Are there any cute guys around your apartment?"

"No, not really. They're quite boring, stuffy old muggles who would never understand anything about magic, and who would probably report me to the authorities if I ever mentioned anything about being a witch."

"Oh Ginny, you're being quite boring," Hermione replied in a joking manner.

"Oh well, what can I say? I've been holed up in this apartment for the last few months doing nothing but perfectly boring research comparing the Ministry of Magic in other countries to the one right here in London. Could you imagine working on that?"

"Actually, I think it would be quite-" Hermione started, but Ginny cut her off.

"Hermione! I really need to get back to work!" Ginny said, contradicting everything she had just said as Hermione stood up, and Ginny snatched her cup out of her hand, pushing the small of her back towards the door.

"Ginny make sure you're at Hogwarts bright and early Monday morning! I put the schedule of all of my classes in the bag as well." Hermione called one last time as Ginny went to retrieve her cloak from the hall closet.

"Hermione I know, I'll probably be at Hogwarts tomorrow evening in time for dinner."

"Oh good, then I'll see you then?" Hermione questioned as she fastened her cloak and slipped her shoes back on.

"Of course you will, goodbye," Ginny waved as Hermione opened her umbrella and stepped out into the stormy weather.

After Ginny shut the door, Hermione sniffed loudly, and started down the stairs slowly but surely, one hand clutching her stomach and the other her umbrella. As soon as she stepped into the dark alleyway, and was sure that no prying eyes were peeking through curtains, she apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts.

Almost a week later, on October 20th, Hermione gave birth to fraternal twins, one boy and one girl, after a long and tedious labor which consisted of many cries, hand gripping and sweating on both Harry and Hermione's parts. Hermione, true to her conversation with Sinead over the summer, named the babies after Harry's parents, Thomas James and Cadalyn Lily. The children's last names were up for serious debate.

The children were beautiful, complete paradoxes of one another. Thomas had silver-blonde hair to match his fathers, and deep-brown eyes to match his mothers. Cadalyn was a different story: her hair dark brown, her eyes molten silver. Harry seemed oblivious to the obvious, not noticing that neither of the children had green eyes, or a scar on their forehead for that matter.

A/N: Hello everyone! Yes, I am alive and well, as you can see. Hiatus is over and I'm back in action, trying to get this fic written and finished so I can start another one. Not to worry, I have a lot of ideas. I apologize profusely for my absence. I don't know how anxious you have been to read this chapter, but here it is. More's coming, whether you can predict what it is or not.

This chapter stands unedited at this moment, except for the few times that I read over it. I really wanted to get it all out to you guys, the few of you who might have still stuck with me over this time period, and when my beta sends me back her version, I'll be sure to post it right away.

I'm on spring break right now, and I'm going to try and write a chapter a day. We'll see how successful I am at that. The amount of time it takes for me to get each chapter out greatly depends on how many reviews I get (:wink wink:) and how much time and energy my beta has (thank you serenity, I don't think I would have started this chapter if it wasn't for your constant buggering). There aren't that many chapters left in this fic anyways.

Reviews are greatly appreciated, as I've stated over and over in previous chapters. If you guys want anything special to happen in any upcoming chapters, please include it in your review, and I'll see what I can do. I love to hear your opinion; it encourages me to write more. See you soon! xoxo–Auburn Lily


	21. Halloween

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!

**Yankee Accents**

Chapter Twenty-one: Halloween

Written by: Auburn Lily

_How can I expect anyone to understand_

_I've been silently entreating all on my own demands_

_Lara Fabian_

October 22nd found Hermione still situated in the maternity ward of the Hospital Wing. She had her own room equipped with a window decked out in yellow and white checkered curtains. Bright morning sunlight poured through onto the scrubbed tile floor, as the room was located on the east side of the Hospital Wing. The room was stuffed to the brim with flowers and singing cards from well-wishers all around the school.

In incubators on either side of the bed lay her two-day old babies, fast asleep in their warm cocoons. Hermione sighed contentedly, and placed her folded hands on her slowly deflating stomach. On her bed in front of her sat a pile of parchment rolls, on which she could recognize her students handwriting.

Ginny had delivered a few different assignments to Hermione the day before, and a pile of graded essays lay stacked up on the table next to her bed, red ink scratches and corrections all over each students essay. Hermione was a very tough grader, never letting even the simplest of mistakes go unmarked.

Hermione refilled her quill with red ink, glanced at the clock on the table, which read nine a.m., and picked up another essay to read.

She marked the first mistake, and then the door clicked open, admitting Poppy, the nurse, into the room. Hermione smiled widely, and put aside her work for the moment, and Poppy returned the smile, the deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes etching themselves further into her skin.

"Good morning, dear," Poppy said. "How're the babies and mother this morning?"

"Wonderful Poppy," Hermione answered in a sing-song voice. "May I ask how you are?"

"I'm perfectly fine dear, no need to worry about me," Poppy replied, waving her hands in front of her in an unconcerned manner. "I've come to tell you that you and your babies will be fit to leave the hospital wing tomorrow. The doctor in from St. Mungo's reported that your babies are healthy, and in no need for special care."

"That's wonderful," Hermione said. "Harry will be happy. He's been fretting over me like a chicken these last few days."

Poppy looked at Hermione sternly, and Hermione gulped. Poppy knew that the babies couldn't possibly be Harry's. How on this earth could they be? She had already discussed this with Hermione, who still refused to mend the situation.

"Right," Hermione said, quickly steering the conversation away from that particularly tender subject. "Well, could you please send Jessa and Ginny up here later this afternoon? I'll need help with transportation of all my things back to my room."

"Very well," Poppy sniffed, her friendly demeanor having vanished as quickly as a candles flame being snuffed out. I'll be back in a few moments, the babies need to be woken and fed."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied, feeling as if she were eleven again, being scolded for a misdemeanor.

Poppy exited the room without another word, her harsh heels echoing off the walls of the ward as she strode back to her office.

Hermione stole glances at Thomas and Cadalyn, their small chests rising and falling so lightly one might have thought they were not breathing at all, and waves of guilt trickled down her body

Later that day, after Hermione had bathed and the babies had both been fed twice, Jessa and Ginny arrived, giddy and excited to be visiting Hermione and the babies once more.

"Hermione," Ginny said, peering over the side of the incubator at Cadalyn, whose eyes were wide open and peering around at her surroundings with innate curiousity. "I've been wondering this ever since I've seen her eyes. Why are they silver, when neither you nor Harry have silver eyes?"

Jessa glanced at Hermione, and they locked gazes for a few short moments, with Jessa giving Hermione the tiniest of nods.

"Umm, well Ginny," Hermione started. "It's sort of complicated. You have to promise me you won't tell anyone I told you, or you can't become angry with me."

And Hermione told her the entire story, starting with the reunion back at Christmas, and ending with Poppy's suspicions and accusations.

"Hermione Granger!" Ginny hissed in an angry whisper. "How dare you keep this from me," and she stomped off out of the ward, disturbing the few students who occupied the main wing.

Hermione grimaced. "I guess she didn't take it as well as I had hoped?" she asked, turning to Jessa, who was reclining in one of the visitor chairs.

Jessa shook her head, and yawned widely. "I would have been just as angry with you if I was in her position. She was one of your better friends during your school years. She's probably confused and shocked and asking herself exactly why you didn't tell her this before."

"You don't think she'll tell Draco, do you?" Hermione asked anxiously. She couldn't imagine a more dreadful situation in which Draco found out about her lie.

"She's been your friend for the last fifteen years. You're the one who knows her the best. I just met her a few months ago."

Hermione thought about this for a few moments, and then decided that no matter how upset Ginny may be, she wouldn't reveal her friends secret, regardless of what happened.

"Thanks, Jessa," Hermione said, sighing heavily. "I have to get used to that reaction anyway. There will come a time when I have to stop lying."

"I agree," Jessa replied. "Frankly," she added, leaning forward, her hands folded over her knees, and her thick dark braid fell over her shoulder. "Frankly, I don't know why you found it necessary to lie in the first place. It seems sort of pointless now, don't you think?"

Hermione bit the corner of her bottom lip and lowered her eyes in shame. She didn't understand it, but people all over the place today were making her feel like a child. "I know, you don't have to remind me of the mistakes I've made."

"I'm just trying to prepare you for the next few days. People are going to be just as observational as Ginny, if not more so. I'm surprised no one else has said anything. Has Ron and his family been here yet?"

"No, they're coming after I get out of the hospital wing. You've seen their children before," she said, smiling briefly. "They have no idea how to behave."

Jessa smiled, and silently agreed. "Well, I should be going. It's almost dinner, and I have some papers to grade. I'll try to talk to Ginny. I'm sure she'll come around eventually. It's just a matter of time. We'll be by sometime tomorrow morning to help you take your things back to Harry's rooms."

"Thanks, Jessa," Hermione replied disconsolately. After Jessa left, Hermione stared at nothing for a long time period, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

That next day, late in the morning, Jessa and Ginny appeared in the Hospital Wing to find Hermione waiting in a wheelchair, with all her belongings piled on top of the striped bed. Cadalyn and Thomas had been moved to basinets fully equipped with wheels.

"Good morning, Hermione," Jessa called excitedly. "Are you all ready to get going?"

"Good morning, you two," Hermione replied, smiling at the both of them. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey was just here a few moments before you arrived, giving me one last check up. You know how thorough she is with everything."

"And you're fit to leave?" Jessa inquired. "The babies too?"

"Yep, everything is wonderful and we can all head back to Harry's rooms."

Ginny began to transfigure the things on Hermione's hospital bed to minute sizes so they could fit into an old, rumpled shopping bag which had "_Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes" _blazoned across it in gold and scarlet lettering. Jessa stood over Cadalyn's basinet, cooing at her in a soft voice.

One of the windows in Hermione's room was open, and a crisp, late October breeze permeated through.

"Hermione, the Halloween ball is coming up," Jessa said, as she moved to console Thomas, who was vying for attention.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Jessa, but continued to transfigure the last few things on the mattress.

"Oh, yes your right. How're the plans going for that?"

"Quite nicely." Jessa replied. "The Heads of Houses are working quite cooperatively together, and the few plans that I've seen have been wonderful. I sometimes wish I was still a student so I might attend."

Ginny scuffed loudly, and began walking towards the basinet that held Cadalyn. "Come on," she said stiffly. "I'm done, so we should get going."

Jessa pushed Thomas' basinet, following Ginny out of the room, and Hermione brought up the rear.

"Jessa, are you going to the ball?" Hermione asked, as they made their way through the hallways.

"Yes, most of the teachers are required to attend," she replied. "But I'm sure you won't be going, what with your babies."

Hermione looked down at her feet as the wheelchair wheeled along very much on its own. "I wish I might go, if only for a little while."

"I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind if he watched over the babies for an hour or so," Jessa replied. "Anything for you, he would say."

Hermione laughed out loud, and caught a glance from Ginny, which was not filled with malice, but more like pity.

Hermione kept quiet for the rest of the trip back to Harry's rooms, the only sound filling the silent air around them being the shrill squeaking of the wheels on the basinets and wheelchairs.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, as soon as the door to Harry's rooms was opened. He quickly moved out of the way as Ginny and Jessa rolled the babies through the archway, and then darted out the door to grasp hold of the handles of Hermione's wheelchair. He pushed her through the door, and pulled the door shut with his foot.

"Hermione, I'm going to take these things up to your room," Ginny offered, pushing Cadalyn's basinet behind a sofa.

"That's fine," Hermione replied. "I'll be up in two short seconds."

Ginny nodded briefly, and disappeared up the stairwell.

"Thanks so much, Jessa, for your help and everything," Hermione said, turning her eyes to Jessa, who had moved Thomas' basinet next to his sisters. She was currently taking residence on the sofa, popping huge bubbles of gum every few moments.

"Of course, of course," Jessa replied, waving her hand graciously. "Anything for these babies, you know."

Hermione smiled genuinely, and looked up behind her at Harry, who was looking at the babies in the basinets with an odd look on his face.

"They're beautiful, Hermione," Harry said, his voice strained. "Even though I've seen them before, they really are beautiful."

Hermione bit her lip, and nodded her consent, before standing up slowly. Harry grasped her elbows, but she shook herself away from his grasp. "Harry," she argued. "I have to learn to support myself you know?"

"I know," Harry replied. "Be careful on the stairs," he called after her retreating back as she too disappeared up them.

The door to Harry's room was open, and as Hermione neared the entrance, she could hear Ginny humming softly as she worked to reverse the shrinking job she had done on all of Hermione's things. Hermione leaned against the archway, catching her breath for a short time period, and then approached Ginny to help her "finite incantetum" all of the objects.

They worked in silence, and after all of the things were back to their normal shape and size, set to putting them in their places around the room. When that was done, Hermione opened a window, and then sat down on the bed, patting the space behind her for Ginny to take.

They sat in a comfortable sort of silence for a short time period, neither of them addressing the subject at hand, until they both spoke at the same time.

"Ginny, I'm really sorry for not telling you before," Hermione said all in one breath, while Ginny said, "I really shouldn't have gotten so upset, but you know."

They both stared at the other for a short time period, and then began to laugh at the other, and not insignificant chuckles, but rolling laughs that only best friends can laugh when they're laughing at one another, or themselves. After a few moments, Hermione spoke up once more.

"Listen, Gin, I'm really sorry about keeping it from you and everything," she started, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "But you have to understand something," she continued, holding her hand up to silence Ginny, who had opened her mouth at that same time. "I don't know how you feel about Harry right now, as we've never had enough time to really talk since I've come back. All I can remember is the way you used to feel about him, and that was what I had worked off when making this decision. I know that you never wanted any sort of harm to come to him, no matter who gave it to him, and I feared that if I told you the truth, you would go straight to Draco and tell him everything, in malicious intent at me for hurting Harry. Harry knew the entire time that the babies were not his at all. He helped me because of the friend he is to me. I am aware of the fact that it hurt him. I believe it hurt him more than you or me, or anyone else for that matter, will ever know. And maybe I was being selfish. But I can't go back and change that now. There are so many mistakes that I have made in my entire life that I wish I could have gone back on now. This is just another one of them."

Ginny listened to Hermione the entire time, nodding her head in the places she felt it was necessary, and then thought for a short time for replying.

"Hermione, please don't apologize to me for the mistakes that you have made in the past, or even the mistakes you are making in the present. We all have to make decisions based on the situation at hand. You made one, and I do not blame you for it in the slightest. You know me too well. If you had told me the truth, and I had realized how much you were hurting Harry, I think, if it came down to it, I would have told Draco your secret. You made the right choice in not telling me about it, if you didn't want Draco to know about the babies. I give you credit for that. But I can't forgive you for hiding all of this from Draco, who, out of all of the people who should know, deserves to know the most. Regardless of the fact that I am your best friend, and I always will be, Cadalyn and Thomas are his children, and that should have been your first priority. No matter what he's done in the past, you can't punish him for that now. He's been punished for that all the time you have been gone. He's paid for the mistakes he's made a thousand times over, I think. You've no idea how much he has changed."

Hermione kept silent, although she did know very well how much Draco had changed. How could she not have noticed? She had so many secrets to keep, she couldn't seem to keep track of them.

"You don't understand at all, do you Ginny?" Hermione asked, not maliciously, or accusingly. She said it quite without feeling, like the stoic she was when people were around. "I couldn't possibly tell him now, not now."

"Hermione, are you dense?" Ginny demanded. "The babies don't look anything like Harry. People aren't stupid. They will notice, and then what are you going to do? People aren't as forgiving as you would like to believe, no matter what sort of fantasy world you live in."

Hermione hung her head, and pulled her hair with her clenched hands. Ginny continued.

"There's going to come a time when you have to tell him, no matter if you want to or not. "What're you going to do then?" And with that last remark, she got off the bed, and strode out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.

The next week or so passed by uneventfully, although the babies received a few suspicious glances. Harry never asked Hermione when she was going to tell Draco. Frankly, Hermione assumed he was never going to ask her about it because he didn't want her to tell him about it.

Halloween morning dawned laced in clouds, the only sign of sun being a pale strip of blood red in the east, which, after an hour or so, was eaten up by clouds and thunder. Hermione woke early, as she always did, to feed the babies, and then showered quickly, got dressed, and headed down to breakfast, the enchanted basinets wheeling along beside her. The babies were quiet at the moment, although Thomas, true to his father, tended to get nasty and disagreeable. Cadalyn had a more calm disposition, and only cried when she needed to be changed or feed.

Upon entry to the Great Hall, Hermione saw that the typical decorations for Halloween had been put in place. Instead of a thousand candles hovering atop everyone's heads, there were a thousand pumpkins, and bats fluttered around the ceiling. Hermione took her usual seat at the Top Table, in between Jessa and Harry (who hadn't come to breakfast yet), and after saying good morning, began to fill her plate.

"You know, Hermione," Jessa said in between bites of her kippers. "I have somewhere important to be tonight, so right after my last class lets out, I'll be gone. It came up quite suddenly, late last evening, in fact, so I won't be able to watch Cadalyn and Thomas tonight for that short time period."

"Oh," Hermione replied, disappointment flooding her insides. She had really wanted to attend a little bit of the ball that night. She and Jessa had set it up a few days earlier, and Hermione had been looking forward to the Ball ever since. "Who should I ask, do you think?" she added, looking around the top table.

"I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind doing it," Jessa replied.

Hermione nodded slightly, and decided that was her only choice. Ginny was not going to be at the school that night, as duty called with her family and her mother, and there was no one else she would trust with the babies. Harry was not very maternal, however. "I guess that's my only option."

Later that day, during one of the periods in which Harry had no class, she went to his classroom, the omnipresent basinets wheeling along beside her. He was working at his desk, apparently grading papers, and did not notice when she came in the classroom. However, as she got closer, he heard the squeaking of the wheels and glanced up, smiling when he saw who it was.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, setting down his marking pen, and cracking his knuckles. Afternoon sunlight flooded through the huge windows that were behind his desk, and tipped his hair in silver. Hermione smiled back, and took a seat at one of the empty chairs closest to his desk.

"Good afternoon," she replied, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she said it. "Grading papers, I see?"

"Yeah, trying to get a bunch done before this weekend. Are you coming with me to visit Ron and Sinead?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied. She had almost forgot about that. "Yes, of course."

"Are you sure the trip won't be too much for the babies?"

Hermione glanced down at their sleeping forms, although Thomas seemed to be getting a tad bit restless. She smiled softly at them both, and then nodded her reassurance to Harry. "Yes, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Good, good," Harry replied, shifting some papers on his desk. "Was there anything in particular you needed to talk about?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Hermione replied, turning her eyes back to meet his. He blinked twice, and then glanced back down at his desk. "Jessa had something urgent come up this evening, and can't watch the twins. I was wondering if you could do me a kindness and just watch them for about an hour. I just want to go down and sit and watch everyone for a little while. I won't be long, so you needn't worry about that. I've already discussed with Dumbledore to make sure that it's ok that you leave the ball for a short time period, and he had no problems with it."

"Oh, I would love to Hermione," Harry answered gleefully. "I can't believe you would trust me with them."

"Yes, well," she said, glancing at her fingernails. "I'll leave a bottle for each of them, and their undergarments and all of those accessories as well."

"What time do you want me to watch them?"

"Oh, probably just from around seven to eight. Not that long. I know you don't want to miss the Ball."

Harry glanced at her, and didn't say anything, although she could read it in his eyes.

_I would do anything for you._

She swallowed heavily, and said thank you hurriedly before leaving the classroom, and striding steadily back to her room, her babies wheeling along beside.

Hermione graded papers for the rest of the day, sitting up in Harry's room with the windows cracked to the late October day. Cadalyn was quite mellow, sleeping on her stomach wrapped up in the pink fuzzy sleeper Jessa had gotten her. Thomas, on the other hand, demanded to be held the entire time. Hermione was extremely irritated with him by the time seven rolled around, when Harry appeared in the doorway to his dorms.

"Hermione, you look stunning," Harry said, as he strolled across the room to take a red-faced Thomas out of Hermione's arms.

That she looked stunning was quite an overstatement. She had dressed her self in a plain black dress. The only adornment was a short train extending behind her. Half her hair was pulled up behind her head, and the other half spilled down past her shoulders. The only jewelry she wore were two tiny diamonds sparkling like stars in her ears.

"Thanks," she muttered half-appreciatively as she handed Thomas over to Harry. "All of their bottles and everything are in the fridge over there," she said, pointing over into a corner. "You know where everything is. I'll be back in an hour," she added, slipping a pair of flats onto her chubby feet. "Thanks so much."

The walk down to the Great Hall was short and sweet, due to the few short cuts she knew. As she neared the Hall, haunting music filtered out into the corridor to meet her, and as she turned the last corner, she saw that the wide, double doors to the Great Hall had been thrown open to accept any last minute stragglers to the Ball.

Weaving in and out of the crowd of dancing students Hermione could see transparent, spectral beings, who always like to haunt, especially on Halloween. As Hermione got closer and closer to the Hall, she could smell apple cider and pumpkin pie wafting in from the dessert table, and she could hear laughter and rowdy yelling as the band christened _Thrice Rose_ picked up the beat of the next song.

Hermione slowly strode around the dance floor a few times, observing the students dancing raucously and raunchily. She was standing near the stage where the band was playing their music when she felt someone tap her shoulder gently. She turned around, half expecting to see round silver eyes blinking at her, but instead they were twinkling blue, hidden behind half-moon spectacles.

"May I have this dance, Ms. Granger?" Albus asked her gently.

"Of course, sir," she replied, placing her smooth hand in his old, withered one. He lead her to the edge of the dance floor.

"How're the children?" he asked, as she laid a hand on top of his shoulder.

"Fine," she replied, as he placed his other free hand on her waist. They were a comfortable distance apart, and danced slowly to the music. "Harry agreed to watch them for a short while so I could come down here."

"How generous of him," Albus answered kindly.

"Yes, I agree."

At that moment, someone else tapped on her shoulder, followed by a demanding voice asking if he could please cut in. Albus stepped back quickly, answering with a benevolent yes, and then seemingly evaporating back into the crowd. Hermione turned around to meet stormy grey eyes rimmed in thick lashes.

Hermione placed her hand in his, and he lead her farther away from the crowd, close to a window, where they could see periodic flashes of lightening. He wrapped both arms around her waist, and pulled her close to his chest, as she encircled his neck with her arms. She could hear his heartbeat steadily and strong against her ear, and she sagged against his body with a heavy content sigh.

They danced slowly through the next three songs, not minding the fact that the tempo for each one changed, getting faster and faster each time. At the end of the last song, Draco took her hand in his, and pulled her out of the Hall and down into the dungeons.

She didn't think twice about Harry being in her rooms, patiently waiting for her to come back. She just thought about Draco's fingers on her back, and his mouth on her neck.

Hermione woke up two hours later, and glanced at the clock that sat on Draco's bedside table. It read, in neon-green colors, that the hour was closing in on eleven. She sat up suddenly in bed, Draco's arms falling away from where they held her waist, and she quickly removed the covers from around her body.

"Whassa matter?" she heard him mumble groggily.

"I have to go, it's really late," she mumbled as she reached for her dress. "I'm sorry." And with that, she was out in the chilly dungeons. Even though she was underground, she could somehow still hear the thunder. An uneasy feeling was trickling slowly down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. She hadn't even bothered to put her shoes on, and by the time she was outside Harry's rooms, her feet were numb with cold.

She let herself in quietly, in case the babies were sleeping, and was hit with a curtain of cold air. She looked at the windows, and with a start saw that they were wide open, icy rain pouring in onto the stone floor, and the drenched white curtains billowing in the gusty wind like spectral haunts.

She heard a loud snort from behind her, and saw Harry sleeping soundly and quite loudly on the sofa, an empty bottle of bourbon lying on the floor next to him. She hurriedly looked to the basinets that were on either side of the sofa.

They were empty.

A/n: Please review!


	22. South American Animosity

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is in this story, except the plot, and any characters that you do not recognize. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling!  
Yankee Accents  
Chapter Twenty-two: South American Animosity

Written by: Auburn Lily

"Harry!" Hermione screamed shrilly. At the sound of her screechy voice, he awoke with a start, jolting into a sitting position. Unfortunately, he had fallen asleep with his glasses on and now they sat on his face, terribly askew. His hair was mused and standing on end more than usual, and he stood up slowly, stretching like a languid cat.

"Harry," Hermione repeated loudly. "Where are the babies?"

As soon as Harry heard this, he stood up and looked quickly at the basinets, and after noting that they were indeed empty, began running around nervously, checking anywhere and everywhere they could possibly be.

Hermione turned to the staircase and, peeling her dress off as she went, took the stairs two at a time. As soon as she closed the door behind herself, she tore the dress hurriedly off her and hunted for a jumper and a pair of jeans. She pulled her hair up to a messy bun and tied her tennis shoes after getting dressed.

She owled both Draco and Ginny succinct notes, and paused before discarding a strip of parchment with Headmaster scrawled atop it in quick handwriting. After sending the notes off with Hedwig, she grabbed her cloak and ran back down to the common room.

"C'mon, Harry, we have to hurry," Hermione said, plucking her wand up from a small table on her way to the door. "Draco and Ginny are meeting us in Hogsmeade."

"Did you owl the Headmaster?" Harry demanded as Hermione moved to the fireplace in order to floo over to the Three Broomsticks.

"No," Hermione replied as she pinched the powder from the jar on the mantle place. "The babies didn't move themselves and I doubt they're anywhere in the castle. Getting Dumbledore involved would be a hassle I don't need to deal with right now."

Harry looked quite dubious and was about to open his mouth to argue when Hermione interrupted him by throwing the powder into the fireplace. "We're meeting them at the Three Broomsticks. I'll see you in a few moments."

And with that, Hermione stepped into the emerald flames and yelled "The Three Broomsticks" loudly. The next second she opened her eyes, she had been spilled out onto the cold stone hearth of the pub. She stood up slowly and looked around herself. It was quite late at night, 11:45 according to the clock on the wall above the entrance, but seeing as it was Halloween, the pub was still full and rowdy.

'Good,' Hermione thought to herself. 'At least we'll be guaranteed some privacy.'

As soon as she finished that thought, a swishing sound could be heard from behind her, announcing Harry's arrival. She didn't move fast enough, however, and the next thing she knew she was on the dirty floor again, with Harry's foot sticking in her face.

"Get off, Harry," she demanded anxiously, pushing him off her.

"You were the one who didn't move," he replied irritably, standing up to brush himself off. He offered her his hand politely and pulled her up to stand next to him.

"Now," Hermione started. "Where shall we sit?"

They searched the room fruitlessly, in hopes of finding a table big enough for the four of them to sit at.

"There's a two seater in the corner," Harry said after a few moments. He pointed to a table over near the door.

"That's the only table left," Hermione replied. "I guess that will have to do."

They walked over to the table, managing to steal two vacant chairs along the way, and positioned them uncomfortably around the mini-table. Then they sat down to wait.

Madam Rosmerta, now in her late forties, managed to venture over to their table five minutes later and take their order. Hermione tried to order a pint of mulled mead, but Harry ordered her and himself a glass of cherry soda instead.

"What did you do that for?" She demanded as Madam Rosmerta slunk away.

"You don't need to get drunk right now," he replied.

"I suppose you're right. I just can't stand sitting here waiting. Caddie and Thomas are in danger now!"

At that moment the bell on the shop door tinkled, and considering how close Harry and Hermione were to the door, they were met with a blast of cold, wet air. Ginny walked in, soaked through to the bone and Hermione grabbed her immediately, pulling her over to sit next to her.

"Ginny, finally," Hermione gushed as Ginny plopped down, sending water flying everywhere. "Now, all we have to wait for is Draco."

"Draco?" Ginny questioned. "Did you owl him too?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't?"

"Hermione," Ginny started. "Don't you think Draco will be confused as to why you are including him in this? I mean, I know he has good intentions and I'm sure he will be politely worried, but if you have Draco come with us, you do know that you will have to tell him, right?"

"Tell me what?" Drawled a heavy voice. Draco had walked up behind their table at that very moment, only having just arrived. Hermione glanced up and paled, grimacing at the predicament she had caught herself in.

"Oh, dear," she muttered under her breath, leaning back in her chair. At that moment, Madam Rosmerta arrived with the drinks, and took Ginny and Draco's orders. Hermione, torn between telling the truth and hunting for her children, took a deep breath and sipped some of her drink. She could still hear the storm raging outside.

"Tell me what, Granger?" Draco demanded of her, as Madam Rosmerta walked away.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, ready to tell him the entire truth in full and complete detail, when he spoke again.

"What's all this nonsense about missing children anyway?" Draco asked conversationally, throwing the matter aside.

Hermione sputtered indignantly, forgetting for a moment the peculiar circumstance she was in. "What do you mean, 'What's all this nonsense?' Those missing children are just as much yours as they are mine and if you cared one ounce about them instead of prancing around-" She stopped speaking at that moment, realizing the effect that the words she had spoke had on Draco.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked after a few moments of silence. He had completely dropped his sarcastic, annoyed manner.

Hermione gave up. "Cadalyn and Thomas are your babies." She replied in a defeated manner. She couldn't cover it up anymore and she needed to find them both as quickly as possible. There really was no time to explain. "They're not Harry's, they aren't anyone's except yours and mine."

Draco was silent for a few more seconds, as he let the information sink in slowly, and then he gained his composure. "You mean to tell me that all this time you've been carrying them they've been mine and you never told me? I can't believe you carried around such a lie. And you think I'm bad. You're just as bad as me. You're so hypocritical. All those times you yelled at me for backstabbing you and doing you wrong! How dare you keep this from me."

"Draco, please stop," Hermione begged. "You're only making it worse-"

"Making it worse?" He exploded. "It couldn't be any worse."

"Malfoy," Harry intervened, as the pub hushed under Hermione and Draco's loud voices. "The whole pub's going to hear."

"Good, Potter," Draco replied, turning on Harry. "Good, then they can all see what a traitorous woman your girlfriend is."

"Draco Malfoy, you're acting like a jealous teenager." Ginny berated suddenly. "You shut your mouth and listen to everything Hermione has to say. She never does anything irrationally. We all know she had a perfectly good reason for keeping this from you and if you think for even a second that hiding this from you was an unwise and awful thing for her to do than you're not at all the person I want to think you are!"

Draco paused for a second, and turned to Hermione, who was fully equipped with silent tears running slowly down her cheeks. He opened his mouth, rethought what he wanted to say, and turned around just as Madam Rosmerta arrived with more drinks. He reached into his pocket and drew out a few sickles, paying for all the drinks at once.

Hermione drained her mug in one quick gulp, and then stood up. "Well, there really isn't any time to waste. We're all here and together, so we better get a move on."

Ginny stood up to join her, wrapping her clock more tightly around herself. Her drink was in her hand, and she looked at Hermione questioningly. "Where are we going?"

Harry and Draco glanced up, waiting for Hermione's reply. She thought for a second, and then answered.

"We need to find Jessa, but I have no clue where she is. I guess finding out where her house is will be the thing to do now."

"How on this earth are you going to do that?" Harry asked.

"Well, I know where she attended school. That's about as much information as I have right now, and I guess that's where we need to head to first."

"Hermione, if you don't mind me asking, why do you need to find Jessa?" Ginny inquired, as Harry and Draco stood up from their seats.

"I just want her here with me, is all," Hermione replied irritably, as she made her way towards the fire place. Truthfully, however, Hermione had a bad feeling concerning Jessa, and she needed to verify that her suspicions weren't true.

When they all reached the fireplace, Hermione turned to the other three, pinching floo powder as she turned.

"Now, Jessa's school is called 'Guadahara's Witchcraft Institution for Women'. It's located in southern Colombia, on the coastal side. I'll floo there first, and then you three follow me. I've no clue as to whether we are allowed to apparate onto the grounds, but it would be pointless anyway, seeing as I have no clue what the school looks like." And with that she turned, threw the powder into the flames for the second time that night, and stepped into the fire. "Guadahara's Witchcraft Institution for Women!"

Hermione spun around and around, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her elbows tucked in. Her long black cloak swirled around her legs and after a longer time than it normally took to floo, seeing as it was across the Atlantic, Hermione was spit out on cold, unfamiliar ground.

She stood up slowly, wiping hair out of her face, and stared around herself.

She had been dumped into a circular room, with whitewashed walls and open doors leading out to a balcony. Sheer, white curtains billowed in the breeze. Past the balcony she could see the bright, crystal blue of the Pacific, and the scent of some exotic flower Hermione couldn't name wafted through the doors. The smell of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air. She walked away from the fireplace, anticipating someone to shoot through, all the while observing the room she was in.

The clay floor was painted a bright yellow, and on top of it lay several different colored, woven rugs. The walls were covered in landscape paintings and portraits of old Hispanics. The desk centered in the room was covered in tons of torn parchment and broken quills. Behind it stood a huge, black, leather office chair. Bottles of ink could be seen among the disorder which littered the desk, as well as a half-full coffee mug, and a rather large ash tray with cigarette butts sticking in the air.

However, Hermione had no time to nose further, for a loud "hmph," announced Ginny's arrival, closely followed by Draco and then Harry.

Ginny joined Hermione's side in the center of the room, while Draco and Harry lingered by the mantel place.

"I wonder if this is the Headmaster's office?" Ginny inquried.

"Or Headmistress'," Hermione replied, pointing to a brass name plate that sat on the desk. It read 'Headmistress Natalia Alvarez.'

Hermione nosed around some more, trying to find a door to get deeper inside the school, but to no avail.

"How on earth are we supposed to get out of here?" Hermione demanded. She was getting more and more irritated by the second.

"What's this?" Harry asked innocently, pointing to a large red button situated on a spot on the wall above the mantel. "It says 'push here for assistance.'"

"Well, then push it!" Hermione replied, as if this were the most natural thing to do, which it were.

As soon as he pushed it in, a pleasant 'ding' noise could be heard emitting from no place in particular in the room, followed almost immediately by an automated voice messaging system. The voice was of an Hispanic woman's, but it was no where near as pleasant sounding as the recording in the phone booth at the Ministry. This recording was that of an older woman, who seemed to have smoked most of her life, for every few commands were interrupted by a wheeze or cough.

"Buenos noches," the voice began. "Vuelva a dirigir por favor su atención al centro del cuarto, en donde nuestro quiosco numerado debe hacer una entrada."

None of them understood fluent spanish, and so the only way they knew something was happening was by the clicking, vibrating noise coming from the center of the room. They all turned to watch a slot open up in the floor, and a device, much like a muggle number keypad, rose automatically up.

The voice continued. "Español, prensa una. Português, imprensa dois. Français, pression trois. English, press four-"

Hermione pressed four, and waited for the voice to continue.

"Thank you for choosing 'English.' Welcome to Guadahara's Witchcraft Institution for Women, the most renowned on all of the continent. If you would like to schedule your child for enrollment for the 2009-2010 school year, please select one. If you would like to collect a child who is currently enrolled in Guadahara's Witchcraft Institution for Women, please select two. If you would like to schedule an appointment to speak with Headmistress Natalia Alvarez, please select three. If you would like to schedule an appointment to speak with any of the staff members, please select four. If it is an emergency, and communication with the Headmistress must be now, please select five-"

Hermione pressed five immediately, and was greeted with another pleasant 'ding.'

"Thank you," the voice continued. "Headmistress Alvarez will be here shortly."

And with a finalizing click, the kiosk descended back into the floor.

Hermione stared at the spot on the floor through which the kiosk had just disappeared, and grumbled loudly.

"What a joke," she said crankily, leaning against Headmistress Alvarez's desk. "I knew we shouldn't have come here, what a waste."

Harry and Ginny merely rolled their eyes, but Draco couldn't simply brush the comment aside.

"Hermione, you're the one who insisted we come here. If it's anyone's fault, it's yours."

Hermione, already on very short temper due to the state of her missing children, turned to him with the most horrific glare painted on her face. Ginny and Harry drew back in absolute fear.

"I'm just using my instinct in order to find Caddie and Thomas. Do you have any brighter ideas right now? If you were a decent father, you would be just as concerned about their whereabouts as me."

"Not thirty minutes ago, I thought they were Potter's children. I'm still getting over the initial shock of being betrayed and lied to the last nine months."

"Don't you pull that crap on me, don't you dare. You had no right to know about it, no right-"

"No right?" he interrupted again. "So, being an immediate blood relation doesn't count for anything now, does it?" he added matter-of-factly.

"Not when said 'immediate blood relation' is an immature, pompous git who shags and lies everyday."

"Oh right, but you're Mother Teresa now?"

Hermione screamed in frustration and could barely control her urge to launch herself at him.

Fortunately, at that precise moment, a loud clicking noise interrupted the argument, and they all redirected their attention. It sounded as if someone where unlocking many locks all at once. Immediately, one of the portraits (one of an extremely obese Hispanic man sleeping) swung to the side, and presumably "Headmistress Alvarez" stepped into the room.

She was extremely short, the house elf standing next to her rivaling her height. Her head was engulfed by a larger, pointed, witches hat, and Hermione assumed that the hair pulled tautly underneath it (for there was not a stray hair to be seen) was dark gray. Her skin was a shade darker than topaz, and was as wrinkly as a grape left in the sun too long. Her eyes were magnified greatly by the large, round glasses that were perched on her pert nose, and her mouth was twisted into a cross between a pout and a scowl. In one small hand, she held a cigarette holder (explaining the dominant scent of the room), which wafted smoke up in furls towards the vaulted ceiling.

Without a word to the four of them, she stalked over to her desk, the click from her shoes vibrating against the walls, and the house elf scurrying around behind her, carrying what looked to be an extremely large briefcase for the Headmistress to possess.

There was a slight delay when she got behind the desk, for she barked at the house elf in harsh spanish. In response, the house elf set the brief case down on the ground, and conjured what appeared to be a step ladder. The house elf placed it on the floor in front of the Headmistress, and then stepped back so she could climb into her swiveling office chair, which looked ridiculously too big. She then turned to face them, flicking her cigarette over the edge of the desk in the process. Before the ash came in contact withe the clay floor, it vaporized.

She waved her hand, and four seats appeared in front of her desk, motioning for them to take a seat.

They consented, and before Hermione could open her mouth to begin, they were accosted by the house elf, who offered them cigarettes, Colombian cigars, sweets, plates of exotic food, and margaritas, which Hermione grabbed whole-heartedly before Draco (who was sitting next to her) snatched it away and placed it back on the tray. Hermione glared at him, mumbling obscene words underneath her breath.

Finally, after the Headmistress was sure that they had been offered every type of food known to Hispanic-kind, she stuck her cigarette holder in a tall vase, the tip of the cigarette just escaping the top, and presumably folded her hands in her lap, for they could not see below her upper chest.

"Hola," she began.

"Hi," Hermione answered, after no one else said anything for a few moments.

"I hope you understand I am an extremely busy woman, and I can not stay here long," she continued, in broken English. "Whatever it is you need, make it quick."

"Right," Hermione replied. "I need information on a certain alumni of yours, Jessamine Sanchez."

Immediately, the file cabinets that were situated behind Alvarez's desk opened of their own accord, and an invisible hand began rustling through the folders. After a few moments, a folder was pulled out and placed in front of the Headmistress. She picked it up, and opened it, pulling out several official looking forms.

"What sort of information is it that you need?" she asked, looking up at Hermione with a suspicious gleam residing in her huge black eyes.

"I need to know exactly where she resided for the time she attended your institute, and possibly where her parents are currently living."

The Headmistress opened her mouth for a second, and then shut it, twisting it grotesquely as if she were in deep thought.

"I am unable to disclose that information at this current time," she replied finally.

"This current time?" Hermione demanded. "Will there be another time that is better for you?"

"Never," she replied simply and shortly. She slipped the forms back into the manila folder, and they flew back over her head and into the slot they had been retrieved from. The cabinet snapped close with a resounding click. "I suggest you leave. Now." She added forcefully, plucking her cigarette holder out of the tall vase, and hopping down from the chair onto the stepping stool. She waved her hand, causing all four of the chairs in front of her desk to disappear with a resounding crack. All four of them fell onto the ground. With that, she stepped down from the stool, and made her way to the portrait of the fat man, the house elf scuttling after her once more. Before Hermione could gain her composure, Alvarez had disappeared behind the portrait, the loud clicks meeting their ears once more.

"Get off me, Draco!" Hermione said, shoving his foot out of her face. When they had fallen from the chairs, he had landed directly on top of her. "Dammit! Now what?"

"We could always break into her file cabinets," Harry suggested.

"No, she's not stupid. They're either heavily guarded or they're connected to alarms, and even if we were able to somehow get into them, we would only have a few moments before she came back or guards arrived or something like that. She's very powerful, I could sense it." Hermione reasoned.

"I wonder what it is they're hiding," Ginny wondered, tapping her lip inquisitively. "There has to be something amiss, or else she would've told us everything we needed to know."

"We need to trip the alarms." Draco said finally. "I'm not entirely sure that this will be what will happen, but it's a guess. For a few seconds after the alarms are tripped, the magic will become unstable, and you will be able to grab the files you need. This will only be for a few seconds though, and the Floo network will automatically seal itself up after the magic restablizes. By then, we'll be trapped."

Hermione considered this for a few seconds, measuring the distance between the file cabinets and the fireplace. Unfortunately, the desk was obtrusively blocking the pathway that she would need.

"There's no way I'll be able to get from the file cabinet to the fireplace in a matter of seconds. There isn't even a fire lit," Hermione remarked. "And that takes time."

"Well, all of us won't be able to leave, Hermione," Ginny said. "There isn't enough room in the fireplace for all of us and there most certainly isn't enough time for all of us to Floo individually. I'm sure only two of us will be able to go, and the other two will have to stay here."

"Right," Hermione agreed, settling into command mode. "Someone will have to toss the files to me from the cabinet, and then Draco and I will Floo away."

"Right," Draco replied. "Where are we flooing to?"

"Um," Hermione replied, trying to think of somewhere in the States they could go to, but then she remembered that she hadn't come in contact with magic while she lived there.

"Malfoy Manor," Draco decided after a few more moments of stuttering on Hermione's part.

"Fine," she agreed. She hurriedly walked over to stand next to Draco by the fireplace. "Are you sure you two will be okay?" Hermione asked Harry, who had situated himself near the file that Jessa's folder had come through, and Ginny.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry assured her.

"Don't worry, Hermione. We'll be fine, you and Draco just get to Caddie and Thomas, and fast." Ginny said.

"Okay, I just hate leaving you here, with Alvarez. She doesn't seem very understanding, at the least."

"Hermione, there are bigger things happening right now," Harry said. "I don't know what they are, but they're so much more significant than worrying about Headmistress Alvarez and her entourage."

"Right,"Hermione reassured herself. "Okay, ready Harry?"

Harry nodded, and without further ado, yanked the cabinet open forcefully. Surprisingly, it opened without resistence, but as soon as the cabinet clicked open, a high pitched, screeching noise became omnipresent around them.

Draco quickly grabbed a handful of Floo powder, while Hermione whispered "Incendio" into the fire place. A roaring fire appeared, and as soon as Hermione turned to look at Harry, he threw Jessa's file at her. She caught it deftly, as Draco threw the powder into the fire, grabbing her as he jumped into the emerald flames.

"Malfoy Manor!" he yelled audibly, and the last thing Hermione saw before she was spinning faster and faster was Harry and Ginny being stunned by two huge trolls.

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm back, planing for a long and extended stay. I hope you enjoyed what I did with this chapter, and you're not confused about anything. Chapter hasn't been edited by Serenity yet, I just sent it to her and hopefully she can get it back to me soon. I haven't heard from her in a while, but I'll upload the edited version as soon as possible. Just a heads up on what my schedule is for the summer (btw I graduated from high school just last Wednesday :does dance:):

I start work next week, but that's ok, because my job is being an at-home nanny for one of my mom's clients (you see my mom runs a daycare). So, one of her clients had a baby, and my mom doesn't have any room for her here(the babies a girl named Natalie :D), so I'm going to watch her all summer. I babysat for her once already, and she's so good. She's content sitting in her little seat sucking on her binky, and she doesn't cry or demand attention at all. This is wonderful for me (and for those of you who are eagerly awaiting updates, however few there may be) because I am able to write all that I want!

I am also going on vacation the last week in July, I believe, but I'm pretty sure that's it.

Now, for the important stuff: I don't know if many of you guys know what's been going on on but a lot of my favorite stories have been kicked off the site due to song lyrics being in the text. In case you haven't realized, a lot of my earlier chapters in Yankee Accents contain song lyrics. Granted I do acknowledge the material as someone elses, but I'm still kind of flipping out, because the site won't warn me when the story has been removed. If this happens, which I'm anticipating to be sometime soon, I will be posting the story on another site, such as Portkey, The Astronomy Tower, or the Great Break. Check my profile for updates or websites where it will be posted.

And just in case you guys were wondering, I have copied and pasted all of the reviews I have recieved thus far. See, they do mean a lot to me! You may want to send me an email with your review though from here on out, just in case. That way, I can keep better track of them, and I won't have to copy and paste anymore. My email address is in case you already didn't know. If it doesn't show up here, it should be in my profile. XOXO :D!

**Irishsodabread**: Hi! I don't usually address reviewers, but you I will make an exception too since you addressed something in my story and you had a strong opinion about it. I understand where you are coming from with the whole "Hermione-being-strong" kind of thing, but I think a lot of people overestimate Hermione. Yes, she is very independent and strong (that is how she managed to stay away from him for such a long time), but somewhere down underneath all of that cover is weakness that I was just bringing to light. For example, when she gets completely pissed in chapter six. I know it seemed completely out of character for her to do something like that, but she was thinking irrationally because of what was going on in her life. I am just trying to make it seem as believable as possible, and considering what was going on in her life at that time, I thought it was very fitting for her to get drunk. Every woman has that weakness for that one particular person whom they will never get over (including Hermione) and I really appreciate you looking so much into my story and bringing that to light. I love when people do that and comment on something they don't particularly agree with, et cetera. I hope you continue to read my story and review! XOXO!


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